Category: English

On my twentieth birthday, the “real daughter” who had been stolen at birth suddenly showed up at our doorstep, crying that I had stolen her life. Unlike the timid real daughters in novels, she adhered to the “fight and grab” principle. From the moment she entered the house, she targeted me under the pretext of “taking back everything that belongs to her.” Whenever my parents showed me a little concern, she would cut her wrists and cry: “Your biological daughter suffered so much, yet you feel sorry for a thief. I’ll die to make you regret this!” My parents were so scared they had to coax her everywhere, ignoring and neglecting me. Even my fiancé fell under her spell, feeling sorry for her and scolding me: “Chloe suffered so much because of you, and you still provoke her? You are too vicious!” I defended myself, argued, but in the end, I could only swallow the humiliation alone. Until the World Ski Championships, where I was just one final race away from the gold medal. That was my lifelong dream. But the night before the competition, Lucas broke into my room and snapped my skis. “Tanya, you are a ski coach, you have enough gold medals. But if Chloe doesn’t get the gold medal, she will jump off a building. You’ve enjoyed the blessings in her name for so long, this is what you owe her.” “Tomorrow, announce that you are withdrawing from the competition due to a bad mood. It has nothing to do with anyone else. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee the lives of your club members.” This time, I didn’t make a scene. I just stared quietly at the skis broken in half and smiled: “Okay.” As long as you can afford the price. 1 Hearing this, Lucas suddenly lowered his brows and warned in a low voice: “Tanya, you are a fake daughter. Sooner or later you will be kicked out of the Tang family. When that time comes, you can only rely on me. I advise you not to play tricks and make Chloe sad again.” “Otherwise, I will reconsider my marriage partner.” “Whatever.” I shrugged indifferently. Lucas was furious. He snorted coldly and slammed the door as he left with a dark face. I sneered, pressed the stop button on the camera on my chest, and walked straight to the window to look at tomorrow’s track. Just then, a message popped up on the screen: “Lucas said that he will definitely help me get the gold medal that belongs to me. Look, he always stands on my side.” “You fake, you have occupied my life for so many years and enjoyed everything that should have been mine. It’s time to return it bit by bit!” When I was twenty, Chloe Su jumped out at my birthday party and said she was the real daughter. Her reason for claiming kinship was dramatic. She said she was the real daughter swapped by the nanny with her own child. And I was that nanny’s child. My parents questioned it immediately. Wealthy people’s children are not so easily swapped. But she was different from those timid real daughters in novels. She didn’t panic at all. She directly took out a paternity test to completely confirm her identity as the real daughter. Then she rushed over and forcefully tore off the exquisite diamond crown on my head and all the jewelry on my body, putting them all on herself, self-righteously: “Give them back to me! A fake daughter like you has no right to wear these things!” “I am the eldest miss of the Tang family. Today’s birthday party is also to celebrate for me. You, a thief and fake who stole someone else’s life, should leave sensibly!” I grew up in my parents’ love and had never suffered such grievances. At that moment, my hair was messy, and there were deep red marks on my neck and wrists. I stood there at a loss. My parents wanted to come over and hug me in distress, but Chloe “tsk-ed” and rolled her eyes at me: “Will you fake daughters die if you don’t pretend to be pitiful for a day?” “Mom, Dad, you have been bewitched by this fake. I am your biological daughter. How can you treat me like this?” My parents were bluffed by her, looking at her and then at me, their faces full of hesitation and dilemma. “Although you are our biological daughter, Tanya…” Before they finished speaking, Chloe quit. She sat on the ground and cried loudly: “Enough! Are you going to say that only Tanya is your treasure and tell me not to dream of replacing her?” “Fine! I want everyone to see your bias!” Half of the socialites were there at the time, and her crying attracted the attention of many guests. My parents’ faces were extremely ugly, so they could only let me go home to rest first. Before leaving, Chloe snatched my diamond-encrusted high heels. If my parents hadn’t stopped her, even my haute couture dress wouldn’t have been saved. I returned home embarrassed and lost. My fiancé Lucas, who had specially rushed back from abroad to celebrate my birthday, was furious when he found out. He hugged me and swore to me: “Tanya, don’t worry, you still have me. I won’t allow anyone to bully you.” I was very moved at that time, hugging him and venting all my grievances and panic. At first, he did it, making Chloe cry again and again. But in less than three months, he became Chloe’s most loyal dog, turning his gun to deal with me. Just like today. He knew that winning the skiing championship was my dream and promised to protect me for a lifetime, but he still forced me to give it to Chloe. Truly ridiculous. Feeling the arrogance between the lines of Chloe’s message, I couldn’t be bothered to respond and turned off the screen. I wanted to wait until the competition was over. But since you insist on running into the muzzle, don’t blame me for being impolite. 2 The next day, the World Championship finals were the center of attention. The camera focused on me, and I spoke slowly: “Due to poor personal condition, I cannot complete the competition in my best state. After careful consideration, I have decided to withdraw from the World Championship finals. All responsibilities are borne by me alone and have nothing to do with others.” As soon as the words fell, the scene was in an uproar. The real-time live broadcast on the LED screen was instantly drowned by bullet comments. “Running away before the battle? So disappointing!” “What kind of athlete has such a poor mentality? Heard she’s a coach too. How can she teach others with such trash skills?” “I liked her so much before, I really misjudged her!” Not far away, Chloe was nestled in Lucas’s arms, her eyes full of triumph and provocation. I couldn’t be bothered to pay attention and walked off the stage expressionlessly. Chloe, who had been ready for a long time, cast a confident and charming smile in Lucas’s direction. Since returning, she couldn’t wait to declare everywhere that she was the real daughter of the Tang family, degrading me as a fake daughter who occupied the magpie’s nest and wanted to frame her at all times. I questioned her, but she said I didn’t do it because I was discovered by her and felt guilty. She also used me to gain followers under the banner of “slapping the fake’s face,” marketing herself as a cool novel heroine. Now as soon as she appeared, the atmosphere at the scene instantly reached a climax. The live broadcast room also boiled over because of her. “Snow Goddess Chloe Su is the athlete we should chase, throwing a certain deserter ten streets behind!” “Ahhh, the look Chloe gave President Lucas was so sweet. Although Tanya is the one engaged to President Lucas, I believe Chloe and President Lucas are true love! Some fakes can’t be jealous!” “Character is strength. Chloe has been wandering outside for so many years but is still kind and hardworking. She deserves to succeed! Fake daughter Tanya who stole Chloe’s identity should get out of the sports circle early!” Outside the venue, Lucas stared at the blue figure, the tightly pursed corners of his mouth finally curling into a smile. The moment she finished the competition, he immediately stood up to applaud and cheer for her. The large screen at the scene timely gave a split-screen close-up of me and her. On one side was me, pale and solitary. On the other was the radiant new champion. The contrast was stark. She held the gold medal, tears flashing in her eyes facing the camera, her voice choked. “To have today, I want to thank Brother Lucas the most. Without his support and trust… I couldn’t have come this far…” Cheers inside and outside the venue came wave after wave. I walked back to the lounge alone. My phone vibrated in my pocket. I unlocked the screen, and Chloe’s photo in the family group came into view. In the photo, she leaned into Lucas’s arms, clutching the gold medal tightly, smiling brilliantly. “Thank you, Mom, Dad, and Brother Lucas for your support! Although it’s a pity that sister withdrew today, I will work hard for her dream too!” The next second, my parents’ replies popped up. Mom: [Chloe is amazing, Mom is proud of you.] Dad: [Not bad, guard against arrogance and rashness, keep working hard.] I stared at the tender dialogue on the screen and sneered. Exiting the chat interface, social media platforms had already exploded. The news headlines pushed were meaner one after another. “Irony! Tang family’s useless fake daughter Tanya loses to pressure and flees before battle, heroine real daughter Chloe Su carries the banner to win glory for the country!” The comment section was full of filth. I turned off my phone expressionlessly. On the ground, the pair of skis broken by Lucas himself still lay there quietly. I walked over, slowly squatted down, fingertips lightly brushing the jagged cross-section. Memory was violently pulled back to that summer. When I was fourteen, he mysteriously pulled me under a plane tree and presented a long, exquisitely packaged object from behind like a treasure. “For you, Tanya.” His eyes were shining, as if full of stars. I opened the package; inside was a pair of skis. Two words were carved on it: Lucas & Tanya. He scratched his head, ears a little red. “Tanya, I heard you’re going skiing. Use this from now on.” “When you learn, we’ll go skiing together every winter.” He looked at me, eyes burning. “I’ll accompany you. Wherever you go, I’ll accompany you.” “If you become an athlete in the future, then I will only applaud for you alone.” The sunlight that day spilled through the gaps in the plane tree leaves, dancing on him, exceptionally bright. Later, I really embarked on the path of skiing. I used many more expensive skis and won countless medals and honors. But this pair of skis was always by my side. Every important competition, bringing it along, I always felt exceptionally at ease. We once hugged and kissed in front of these skis. After I won my first national championship, he hugged me tightly and said in my ear: “Tanya, I knew you could do it.” The vow was still in my ears, but the person had long changed. In a trance, a voice suddenly came to my ear. 3 “Chloe needs a better venue for training. Give her the specially approved training hall, and your Snow Wing Club, give it to her too.” I looked up. Lucas stood beside me at some point. He paused, his tone carrying a trace of disgust. “After all, you enjoyed preferential treatment for more than twenty years with her identity, while she suffered for more than twenty years. This counts as a little compensation for her wandering outside in the past.” “Tanya, you owe her this.” “I don’t owe her.” I interrupted him, my tone cold and hard. “Since you believe whatever she says, don’t come to me.” “You said you wouldn’t touch the club. My things, I won’t give an inch.” Lucas snorted coldly, tone disgusted. “Tanya, you always have this self-righteous tough look, as if the whole world owes you.” “Chloe is understanding and grateful. Can’t you learn from her and change your bad temper?” “Also, I am not asking for your opinion. The handover will be completed tomorrow morning.” The man who once said he would protect me for a lifetime now turned against me because of a sentence from another woman. It would be a lie to say it didn’t hurt. But I don’t know when it started to change. Probably that time, Chloe habitually picked a fight at the dinner table: “Some people have good stomachs and can eat such oily Spicy Chicken. Poor me, I have never had enough to eat since I was a child, my stomach is bad, and I feel uncomfortable eating it.” If it were before, Lucas would only say annoyedly: “Get out if you don’t eat.” But that time he immediately raised his hand, moved the dish I had just touched far away, and said to me: “You eat something else.” And Chloe, eating the food Lucas personally picked for her, was like winning a battle, lifting her chin to cast a proud and mocking look. Or maybe that time I fancied a limited edition necklace and used connections to get a reservation. Chloe saw the photo and showed a little envy in front of Lucas. “The fake enjoys everything, the real one can only struggle to survive.” The next day, the necklace that should have belonged to me appeared on Chloe’s neck. When I questioned him, Lucas just frowned. “It’s just a necklace, when did you become so calculating? Chloe hasn’t lived a good life before, what’s wrong with making her happy?” “In the end, your mom is the murderer who caused her to wander outside.” Also, the most chilling time for me was when scratches inexplicably appeared on Chloe’s skis. She insisted with red eyes that I did it. Lucas didn’t even investigate, looked at me with a frown immediately, and scolded: “Tanya, I know you are angry, but don’t use such despicable means.” Such things became countless later. From being aggrieved at the beginning, I became too lazy to care later. Pulling away from the memories, I took a deep breath and made a phone call to arrange the handover matters. Since Chloe wants it so much, I’ll give it to her. Just don’t know if she has the life to enjoy it. The handover ceremony was arranged very high-profile. Chloe wore a tailor-made high-end suit, exquisite makeup, standing in the position that originally belonged to me. She secretly curled her lips, unconcealable pride in her eyes and brows. “Sister, don’t worry, I will definitely run the club better and won’t disappoint the expectations of you and Brother Lucas.” She looked at me, eyes full of showing off. I didn’t speak, just nodded gently. No one knew, as early as last night. All the core materials and members of the club were quietly transferred by me. The current club is just a glamorous empty shell. As I expected, a few days after taking over the club, Chloe started her tricks again. Anonymous former team members suddenly started exposing me online. Saying I got into several important competitions through the back door, and even posted a few blurry screenshots of evidence. Immediately after, more black material about me kept popping up. Saying I bullied newcomers and squeezed out potential juniors relying on my money. Public opinion was ignited again. 4 When Lucas found me with those black materials, his eyes were full of undisguised disgust and warning, “Tanya, I didn’t expect you to be so unbearable behind the scenes.” “Chloe is simple and pure-minded. You’d better behave yourself and don’t have any crooked thoughts to hurt her.” I chuckled lightly, voice sarcastic: “Lucas, when you came to question me with these things of unknown origin, claiming I was vicious and unbearable, did you ever think about how many years we have known each other?” “A full twenty years, can’t it compare to a few cries and forged screenshots from her?” “Did you even try to verify it once?” “Enough!” Lucas suddenly roared low, veins bulging on his forehead. “Tanya, why do you have to be unreasonable and bring up feelings every time? Admit it when you did wrong!” “I hope you remember today’s warning, behave yourself, and don’t trouble Chloe again. Otherwise, I will make you pay!” He gave me a deep look, then slammed the door and left. I sneered and withdrew my gaze. Before, always thinking of the unwavering love and heart-moving traces of our youth, I always endured it. But this also gave him the chance to hurt me again and again under the banner of “Chloe is miserable, I shouldn’t bully her.” But this is the last time. Lucas, it’s not that I didn’t give you a chance. But since you insist on hurting me for Chloe, don’t regret it when you discover the truth. Chloe was extremely vain and loved face. She insisted on making our parents hold a grand recognition ceremony again to let everyone in the city know her true identity. Lucas also spoiled her, booking the most luxurious hotel banquet hall in the city. On that day, celebrities from the business and sports circles gathered, and various media were also waiting in full battle array with cameras. The emcee’s voice was particularly clear. “Distinguished guests, we gather here today not only to celebrate Miss Chloe’s winning the gold medal for the country in the World Championships but also to announce good news!” “After rigorous confirmation, Miss Chloe Su is the biological daughter of the Tang family who was lost outside!” As soon as the words fell, there was applause. Chloe was protected by Lucas, head slightly raised, eyes red, looking excited yet restrained. “Miss Chloe not only has pure character but also showed amazing talent in skiing. Let’s review Miss Chloe’s elegance on the field through the big screen!” The huge LED screen lit up in response. Photos of Chloe rotating and jumping on the track played one by one, accompanied by exciting background music. Applause continued offstage, praising her as “Tang family’s real daughter with both talent and beauty.” Chloe held the microphone, sighing with some pity. “Being able to return to Mom and Dad really feels like a dream.” “I know, the fake sister who impersonated my life for twenty years may not be able to accept my appearance for a while, so she sulked and didn’t even participate in the competition…” “What I want to say is, I can be magnanimous and not care that sister still lives in a home that doesn’t belong to her, but things that belong to me, whether it’s honor or family, I will firmly hold in my hand.” She raised her chin slightly and spoke with a smile. “Sister, you will understand and bless me, right?” Meeting her nakedly provocative gaze, I also politely returned a smile. “Of course.” Just as the words fell, the screen originally showing photos of Chloe holding the gold medal suddenly changed into a video. The moment sound came from the video, the smile on Chloe’s lips froze instantly, and the color on her face faded completely.

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1 During a live reality show, the director asked me to call an ex. I pulled up my blocklist. “Which one?” As a D-list star known for flings, the chat exploded with hate. 【The most famous one.】 I pretended to think. “Who’s bigger — Jude Cole or Ross Downey?” The chat went silent. The guests froze. Jude is an Oscar-winning actor; Ross is a Grammy-sweeping singer. Linking them to me seemed absurd. The host forced a laugh. “You’re joking, right?” The chat raged: 【How dare you say his name!】 【If Jude ever noticed you, I’d eat my shoe.】 【Ross has nothing to do with you!】 【She’s just clout-chasing.】 I don’t joke. “So,” I repeated, “who’s bigger?” The chat fell silent once more. Then, all hell broke loose. 【Our boy is obviously the biggest star!】 【Ross was front row at the last awards gala. You tell me who’s bigger!】 【That was only because some second-rate singer stole Jude’s seat. The organizers even issued a public apology!】 【For your information, Ross Downey is the nation’s top artist. Scalped tickets for the seats outside his concerts go for twenty grand. Think about it.】 【Oh please. Also for your information, a single free ticket to one of Jude’s fan meets was resold for an insane price.】 Off-camera, the showrunner was frantically gesturing, his face a mask of panic. He seemed to be signaling, Don’t stir up trouble. The host looked like she was on the verge of tears. “Scarlett, please, just tell everyone it was a joke and they’re not really your ex-boyfriends.” Technically speaking, one of them wasn’t really an ex. He just thought I was still throwing a tantrum. “Fine, let’s invite Ross Downey.” The host sucked in a sharp breath. The chat was a warzone of crying and laughing emojis. 【Wait, is she serious? Is our boy really her ex?】 【Nooo, Ross, how could you fall for such a promiscuous woman!】 【Don’t cry yet. Wait for Ross to come out and shut her down.】 【LMAO, Jude dodged a bullet.】 【Phew, crisis averted.】 The first segment of the show ended there. It was only the premiere, and all the invited guests were nobodies like me. The live format was a gimmick to generate buzz and pull in viewers. Who would have thought that when it came to my turn to invite a guest, two of the biggest names in the industry would be thrown into the mix? After the broadcast, the director, Leo, approached me. “Scarlett, were you telling the truth?” Leo came from a wealthy family and was new to directing, which was why he dared to fund such an ambitious show. But even he didn’t want to get shut down by an A-lister’s team. “It’s true.” Still wary, he pressed, “Do you have any proof that you were together?” “I do.” The last photo we had. That was all that was left. Once he was sure, Leo prepared to contact Ross’s team. Asking for proof was the show’s backup plan. After all, not every ex was willing to appear on a reality show with their former flame. When I got back to my apartment, I was met with a furious call from my agent. “Scarlett, do you even want a career in this town anymore?” he seethed. “You signed an agreement with Regina. You are forbidden from ever publicly mentioning your past with Ross Downey.” I let out a bitter laugh. “Whether I have a career or not, does it really make a difference at this point?” “Issue a statement right now,” he ordered. “Clarify that everything you said on the show was a lie. It’s your only chance to avoid being blacklisted and sued for damages.” I ignored him and hung up. The internet was already ablaze with rumors, with most people convinced I was a pathological liar. But before I could post anything to defend myself, Ross Downey shot to the top of the trending topics. His post was just a few words. “We loved. She’s my ex.” The statement sent his tens of millions of fans into a collective rage. They were convinced I had somehow bewitched him, a momentary lapse in his judgment. The entire mob turned on me, the D-list actress who was shamelessly using a past relationship for a pathetic shot at fame. Just then, Leo called. “Scarlett, Ross’s manager, Regina, offered me three million dollars,” he said. “She wants me to cancel the show.” I fell silent. I didn’t want to back down, but I couldn’t drag him into my mess. “I’m so sorr—” “Guess what I told her?” His tone shifted, a hint of smugness creeping in. I paused. “You didn’t take it?” “She was desecrating my artistic vision!” he declared, his voice full of indignant passion. “A live reality show! What a magnificent creation!” So, the show would go on. “It just seems we won’t be able to get Ross on,” he added. I wasn’t surprised. It was the expected outcome. Then, his curiosity got the better of him. “So, if you’re not lying… is Jude Cole your ex, or your current boyfriend?” he asked excitedly. “Can I invite him instead?” I vaguely explained my situation with Jude. Leo let out a low whistle. “Weird.” “I’ll reach out to his team.” Jude was probably shooting a film overseas right now. News traveled slower there; otherwise, he would have already called, furious. Before the next episode could even be filmed, a termination contract from Starlight Media, my agency, arrived. It demanded two million dollars in damages and included a clause forbidding me from acting for life. My agent slammed the papers down in front of me. “Pack your things and get out of the apartment,” he snarled. “The company supported you for all these years, and this is how you repay us? Ungrateful.” “Supported me?” I shot back. “You call manufacturing gossip and fake scandals ‘support’?” His face flushed. “Bad publicity is still publicity! You think you would’ve gotten any attention without it? You probably wouldn’t have even landed this show.” He smirked. “Oh, and by the way, since you took this show without the agency’s approval during your contract period, you owe us an additional one million dollars in penalties.” That brought the total to three million. The irony was crushing. In the four years I’d been with Starlight, I had only earned a total of thirty thousand dollars. It was a pathetic sum compared to the fortune they were demanding. I signed the agreement without another word. Half an hour later, I walked out of the apartment building, holding a single box with all my personal belongings. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Regina. Homeless little stray. Her cruelty was sharp and direct. I put my phone away and walked toward the entrance. A sleek sports car screeched to a halt in front of me. It was Leo. He took off his sunglasses and cleared his throat. “I heard about what happened with your agency. It’s all because of our show.” He hesitated. “Why don’t you stay at my place for a while? We need to sort out a new contract for you anyway.” He was right. My old contract was through Starlight Media. Now that I was an independent artist, we’d have to draw up a new one. I stopped hesitating and, with my small box of belongings, got into the car. “Thank you.” We soon arrived at his place—a stunning, ultra-modern penthouse that looked like it had never been lived in. Leo showed me around with a proud grin. “Designed it all myself. You can stay here for free. Don’t worry, it’s completely private and secure.” I set my box on the table. “Where’s the contract?” “Right, the important stuff.” He pulled it out. “Here you go. Sign away.” As I signed, he couldn’t resist a bit of gossip. “So, those two guys… you’re over both of them?” I shook my head and handed the signed contract back to him. He took it and was already heading for the door. “I stocked the fridge. The next show is in two days, so get some rest.” Before I could say anything, he was gone. So he was really letting me stay here? I looked around the sprawling penthouse. It was a world away from the tiny apartment I’d lived in for four years—an apartment the company had “graciously” assigned me because my endless scandals attracted stalkers. The special guests for the next episode were mostly confirmed. The other D-listers’ exes were also nobodies, perfectly happy to appear on TV for a paycheck. Only my special guest remained a mystery. Leo couldn’t announce the full lineup yet, so he released the schedule for the second episode instead. Strangely, the moment the schedule went public, Ross Downey immediately reposted it, tagging Leo and demanding to be my guest as my “ex-boyfriend.” Leo was in a tough spot. He had, after all, already contacted my other ex. I had just stepped out of the shower when his call came through. “Scarlett, what do I do? Both of your ex-boyfriends are demanding to be on the show!” Though he was asking for advice, his voice was practically vibrating with excitement. I had no idea what to do either. I could understand why Jude would want to come—finding out you’ve become an “ex” on live television would make anyone angry. But why had Ross suddenly changed his mind? While Leo was still agonizing over the decision, Jude Cole dropped another bombshell. He reposted the show’s announcement, tagging Leo as well. “I’m her current boyfriend. Can I sign up too?” The internet exploded. The comment sections were a firestorm of hatred directed at me. 【I’m done. This world is officially insane.】 【Jude, what are you doing? Why would you get tangled up with Scarlett?】 【I’ve been single for twenty-six years, and I’m less popular than this two-timing train wreck?】 【Jude, did your fans forget to send you eyedrops with their gifts? Are you blind?】 【Just stop. This is all that witch Scarlett’s fault.】 【Can we please just ban her from the industry? I’m so sick of seeing her face.】 Some users even started blaming the random commenter who had first suggested inviting the “most famous” ex. I was scrolling through the hate when an unknown number called. I answered, and Jude’s voice, thick with rage, came through the speaker. “Scarlett, when did we break up?” he demanded. “Was this all some stunt to force my hand and make our relationship public? Well, are you satisfied now?” “We broke up last year,” I cut in, my voice flat. “It’s been exactly one year.” I hung up before he could respond, then reached up to wipe the dampness from my cheeks. Why are you crying? He’s just an ex. The next day, my phone was flooded with messages from Leo. 「This is insane traffic!」 「So many people want to invest in the show!」 「Scarlett, both of your ex-boyfriends want to come on.」 「I can’t choose between them.」 The last message was accompanied by a devilish smirk emoji. 「So I guess I’ll have to take them both.」 Which meant both of my exes were going to be on the show with me. For the second episode, the show’s budget had clearly gotten a massive upgrade. We moved from a small studio to a lavish, expansive set, complete with state-of-the-art cameras. The other guests, who were on my level of obscurity, now kept their distance. Only Chloe, an actress who’d built her career on an “innocent” persona, shot me a look of pure contempt. “You got kicked out of Starlight Media, so stop putting on an act,” she sneered. “Your fifteen minutes of infamy are almost up. Do us all a favor and stay away.” I was taken aback. “How did you know I was let go?” Chloe rolled her eyes. “Haven’t you seen the socials? Regina announced that the company has officially cut ties with a ‘disgraced artist’ like you.” I pulled out my phone. The number one trending topic was Regina’s announcement. The post was timestamped from the afternoon I’d signed the termination papers. No wonder Leo knew. The post had stayed at the top of the trending list for two whole days. Countless people were praising Regina for cutting out the “cancer” of the company. 【Starlight doesn’t tolerate freeloaders. Scarlett was the exception.】 【She was at the biggest agency for four years and all she did was date and start rumors. Couldn’t she have, you know, acted in something?】 【You don’t get it. Why bother working hard when you can just spread your legs for fame?】 The further I scrolled, the more vicious the comments became. Leo appeared at my side. “Don’t read that,” he said gently. “They’re just vultures latching onto whatever rumors they hear.” But I didn’t feel hurt. I’d seen worse. After years of being suppressed, numbness was the only emotion I had left. Besides, today was my last day in the entertainment industry anyway. I forced a smile. “Thanks for the concern. After today, it will all be over.” The show was about to start. The other female guests’ exes were already in place. Only Jude and Ross were missing. Leo kept checking his watch, his brow furrowed. “Don’t they have any concept of time?” Just as he spoke, Jude’s sharp, chiseled face appeared. His eyes scanned the crowd and found me instantly. The gaze that once held so much affection was now burning with fury. His lips were pressed into a thin line as he strode toward me. “Scarlett, you’ve got a lot of nerve,” he growled. “Come on. We’re going outside to talk about why I’m suddenly your ‘ex-boyfriend.’” Leo smoothly intercepted him, stepping between us. “Mr. Cole, the show is about to start. We’re live. If you cause a delay, I don’t care if you’re an Oscar winner or a nobody. I will tell the entire audience exactly why we started late.” Jude’s icy glare swept over Leo, but he finally relented and sat down next to me. Leo checked his watch again. “We can’t wait any longer. Cameras, get ready. Five-minute countdown.” Ross wasn’t here. I lowered my eyes, determined to avoid any interaction with Jude. But he wasn’t about to let me off the hook. “What’s wrong?” he sneered, his voice low and practiced in its cruelty. “Still waiting for your other ex-boyfriend? Did you join this disaster of a show just to get his attention? Is that why you broke up with me? Because you couldn’t get over him?” Chloe sidled up to Jude. “Jude, a woman like her can’t survive without seducing men. She was just shamelessly flirting with my ex right in front of me.” Jude glanced at the man standing behind Chloe. “Heh. He’s no Ross Downey. Why would she even bother?” His gaze snapped back to me, and he seized my hand, his grip like iron. “After all, you already had the perfect replacement, didn’t you?” I yanked my hand away. Chloe, however, looked as if she’d had a revelation. “Scarlett, have you no shame?” she cried, her voice dripping with condemnation. “You used Jude as a stand-in? If I had a boyfriend like him, I would cherish him forever.” It was a well-known fact that Jude and Ross bore a striking resemblance to each other. When Jude first entered the industry, people had jokingly called him “the next Ross Downey.” One record label even tried to sign him as a rival to Ross. But Jude had plunged headfirst into acting, refusing to ever set foot in the music world. And yet I knew. He had a voice that was every bit as good as Ross’s.

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1 My friends said marrying Claire would hand my parents their dream of grandkids on a silver platter. But my nineteenth proposal failed, like all before it, because of Leo, the son of her old college friend. People even wondered if he was her secret child. Each time, I’d explain, “She feels she owes his father, Gerry, who once saved her life.” At the theater, a slideshow of our sweetest moments played, but the air was heavy. When Claire finally arrived, half the guests had left. “Sorry,” she said, “Leo needed extra help with his times tables.” I expected the same sharp disappointment, but felt only deep exhaustion. I nodded and went to pay for the empty theater. She stopped me. “Let me get this.” I shook my head. “It’s fine.” Then she said casually, “I think we should postpone our wedding… Actually, today I married Leo’s father. It helps his custody case.” She held out the marriage certificate. My mind went blank, one thought surfacing: Do I really have to marry this woman? … “It’s just on paper,” she continued, oblivious. “Once the custody case is over…” “You’ll divorce him and marry me?” I cut her off, a twisted, ugly smile pulling at my lips. She froze for a second, but her attention was quickly stolen by Leo, who had started to fuss in her arms. “That man stinks, Mommy! I don’t wanna be here!” he whined. “Let’s go home! I want you and Daddy to read me a story together!” His sticky candy hands smeared all over her coat, and he even managed to yank out a few strands of her hair. But this was the same Claire who once threw a fit because I’d hugged her without taking off my coat first. This time, she didn’t even flinch. Her entire world was focused on cooing at the boy. “It’s okay, sweetie. We’ll go home right now.” Once Leo quieted down, she turned back to me, her nose wrinkled in disgust. “What kind of man wears cologne like that? Leo can’t stand the smell. Don’t wear it again.” Then she added, as an afterthought, “And get rid of all the bottles you have at home before I come over.” She had completely forgotten. This cologne was her first-anniversary gift to me. Or maybe, it was just something she’d picked up on a whim. Maybe I was the only one who had ever felt anything. The only one who had been drowning in the scraps of attention she let slip through her fingers, forcing myself to paint her neglect as love, to believe this relationship had a future. Claire shifted Leo higher in her arms, settling him more comfortably on her hip. Her gaze swept over me, as flat and impersonal as a manager giving orders to an underling. “I’ve explained the situation. Gerry has dinner waiting at home. I’m leaving now.” She walked away with the unhurried pace of someone who had just checked a task off her list, leaving me behind like a subordinate with no right to speak. And suddenly, I felt so tired. A profound exhaustion that seeped from my very bones. I drove home on autopilot. The moment I pushed open the door, my parents’ expectant faces greeted me. Their eyes instinctively darted to the space behind me, searching. But there was nothing there. Only emptiness. The joy that had just begun to light up their faces instantly vanished. My mom forced a smile as she came to take my coat. “It’s okay, honey. Claire’s a teacher. She has so many children to look after. It’s normal for her to be busy.” She patted my arm. “Good things take time. Good things take time.” My dad let out a heavy sigh and turned to start taking down the festive decorations that filled the room. Over the past two years, for each failed proposal, these same decorations had been put up and taken down, taken down and put up. The new house we’d bought for our marriage was a mess, the walls scarred with the residue of tape from countless aborted celebrations. The last time Claire had even been here was months ago, when she’d left in the middle of dinner to rush Leo to the hospital for a sudden fever. She came back later to apologize, and my mother had gently advised, “It would be good to settle things soon.” Claire’s face had darkened instantly. She called my mom an “old-fashioned relic who only knows how to push people into marriage,” accusing her of lecturing a schoolteacher when she’d barely finished high school herself. She never came back after that. My mom had blamed herself ever since, convinced that Claire kept refusing me because of that one comment. But I knew the truth. I thought of how Claire always arrived at Gerry’s parents’ house laden with expensive gifts, how she’d even compiled an entire binder detailing their favorite foods, hobbies, and medical conditions. And I looked at my own parents, their hearts just as broken as mine, trying so desperately to hide their disappointment so they wouldn’t upset me. A tidal wave of guilt crashed over me, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. My mom carefully took down the framed photo of Claire and me that sat in the center of the living room, about to place it in a dust-proof box. I took the frame from her hands and looked at it one last time. Who would have believed that in three years together, this was our only photo? And it only existed because I had sponsored her school’s summer camp. As the official sponsor, I was allowed to attend the activities, and later, I had to crop this picture of the two of us from a group shot of over fifty people. In the photo, I was finally standing beside her, my smile overflowing with pure joy. But she was staring off into the distance, her expression grim and worried, because it was the first time Leo had been away from Gerry for so long, and he wouldn’t stop crying. I thought of Gerry’s social media feed, where he posted a gallery of photos almost every day. In every single one, Claire was beaming like the morning sun. I felt like a complete and utter fool. Without a second thought, I tossed the photo frame into the trash. My mom gasped, thinking I’d dropped it by accident. She moved to pick it up. I stopped her. “Mom, leave it.” “I’m done waiting.” 2 My mom stared at me, her eyes clouded with confusion and worry. “What happened today…?” My voice was unnervingly calm. “Claire married Gerry. They registered it today.” The air in the living room froze. My dad slammed a string of party lights onto the floor. “This is ridiculous! Absolutely ridiculous! What does she think our family is? Her backup plan? Her second choice?” I lowered my head, my voice catching in my throat. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything I’ve put you through these past few years.” My mom came over and wrapped her arms around me. “Oh, my sweet boy,” she whispered. “As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters to us.” Just then, my phone buzzed. It was Claire. My dad, his face a thundercloud, reached to end the call, but my mom shot him a look and pulled him back into their room. “Let them talk it out,” I heard her say. “He needs to close this chapter so she can’t keep wasting his time.” I answered the call. But the voice on the other end wasn’t Claire’s. It was Gerry. “Alex,” he said, his tone oozing smug satisfaction. “Claire had a little too much to drink with my parents tonight. She got caught up in the conversation. She’ll be staying here with me.” My hand clenched around the phone, and I fought back the hot sting of tears. “Why are you telling me this? You’re her husband now.” My response seemed to delight him, his voice deepening with amusement. “Oh, so Claire already told you? She’s really something. It was supposed to just be for the judge, but I guess she couldn’t wait to break the news.” He chuckled. “Don’t get the wrong idea, though. We’re just a pretend couple. You didn’t get all jealous and start a fight with her, did you? That would explain why she drank so much tonight…” “Get to the point,” I bit out, my voice ragged. He fell silent for a moment. Then, in the background, I heard Claire’s sleepy murmur. “Gerry, I’m so hot… Can you help me change…?” I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. The tears I’d been holding back finally broke free, streaming down my face. Gerry must have heard me, because his voice dripped with even more triumph. “Sorry about that. I was just calling to ask for the recipe for that hangover soup you make for her. It’s the only one she’ll drink. And, you know… to explain the whole marriage thing.” “Claire’s got enough on her plate with her students,” he went on, his voice a condescending drawl. “As men, we need to be a little more understanding, don’t you think?” Claire seemed to stir, her voice clearer now. “Is that Alex on the phone?” There was a rustling sound, and then the phone was in her hand. Her voice was thick with irritation. “Alex, I already told you I married Gerry today. I have to meet his family and make it look convincing. If the judge finds out it’s a sham marriage, the consequences are serious.” “Can’t you be more like Gerry? Stop being so paranoid all the time and give me a break. Once the custody battle is…” “When?” I roared, cutting her off. All the pent-up frustration, all the humiliation of the past three years, finally exploded. “When what, Claire?” I screamed into the phone. “When you stand me up again because Leo can’t remember that one plus one equals two? When you miss my parents’ sixtieth birthday to comfort Gerry over his divorce? When you ignore our thirty friends waiting for us and drive hundreds of miles just to buy Leo the perfect eraser?” “Claire, how much longer do you expect me to wait?” “Until I’m on my deathbed? Or until Gerry is on his?” Sobs ripped through me, raw and uncontrollable. I sank to the floor by the sofa, clutching my head. “Why should I have to wait, Claire? Why the hell should I wait for you?” “I’m telling you right now, I’m done! I’m fucking done waiting!” 3 “I hope you and your precious Gerry live happily ever after! You want to repay your debt to him so badly? Then chain yourself to him for life and stop ruining other people’s!” The line went silent for a long moment. Then, Claire’s voice, cold and sharp as ice, cut through the phone. “Alex, I never forced you to wait for me. Don’t you dare try to pin all the blame on me.” “And if you don’t want to give Gerry the soup recipe, that’s fine, but you have no right to take your anger out on him. Apologize to him. Now.” I laughed, a hollow, bitter sound. She hadn’t heard a single word I’d said. She still thought this was about jealousy. About a stupid hangover soup recipe. Maybe it was because after every one of our nineteen previous fights, I had always been the one to crawl back, to beg her for forgiveness. Maybe it had given her the illusion that I would never, ever leave. I slammed the end call button, and a wave of relief, the first I’d felt in years, washed over me. On the other end, Claire stared at her phone, the dial tone buzzing in her ear. Disbelief registered on her face. Her alcohol-fogged brain was slowly processing my words, the raw anguish in my voice. Her lips pressed into a thin, hard line. A knot of unease tightened in her stomach, and she felt a sudden, urgent need to go to my house, to explain everything in person. But as she stood up, Leo padded out from the kitchen, carefully carrying a bowl of soup. She rushed over and took it from him. “Leo, sweetie, you should let the nanny get things like this for you. You could get hurt.” “But Mommy,” he pouted, “you married Daddy now. Why are you still calling yourself the nanny? You’re going to make me mad!” Claire faltered. Just then, Gerry emerged from the kitchen, an apron tied around his waist. Her gaze flickered to him, and after a long pause, she slowly nodded at the boy. “Okay,” she said softly. “Then Mommy will drink the soup with you, how about that?” At midnight, a new post from Gerry popped up on my social media feed. The caption read: “My family.” The picture was of Claire, holding Leo, patiently feeding him soup with a small spoon. Gerry stood beside them, beaming at the camera. I felt nothing. My heart was a calm, still lake. I left a single comment—“Congratulations on the wedding”—then turned off my phone and fell asleep. I thought that was it. That a final, definitive period had been placed at the end of our story, and all that was left was for time to slowly erase her from my life. But then, on a cold day right before the holidays, a bouquet of 999 red roses was delivered to my house. I assumed they were from the woman my parents had set me up with, so I took a picture and posted it online. Caption: “Looks like someone’s ready to get married.” A comment from Claire appeared instantly: “I’m glad you like them.” My face fell. I deleted the post as fast as I could. But it was too late. My phone was already ringing. It was her. “Did you get the flowers?” she asked, her voice cautious. I didn’t answer her question. “What do you want?” My bluntness seemed to catch her off guard. She paused, then pressed on. “Leo’s custody hearing is next week. Gerry said it’s a sure thing.” “Once the case is over, we’ll go get a divorce.” “And then what?” I asked, my voice flat. Hearing my response, Claire seemed to think I was just being sarcastic, but the fact that I was engaging at all gave her a flicker of hope. I could hear the relief in her voice. “Alex, don’t worry,” she said, her words rushing out. “I promise I won’t be late this time!” She sounded so sure of herself. But the very next day, a wedding invitation from Gerry landed in my inbox. 4 I stared at the invitation, a design I had dreamed of a thousand times for my own wedding. But now, it featured a photo of two other people, locked in a passionate embrace. Gerry and Claire. The memories, sharp and painful, came flooding back. All those times I had offered up my heart, only to have it drenched in ice-cold indifference. My hands started to tremble. I remembered my first proposal. The cheers of our friends, me down on one knee, the ring box already open in my hand. Then Claire’s phone rang with that special ringtone she’d set for him, and without a moment’s hesitation, she turned and ran, leaving me kneeling in a crowd of our stunned friends. The second proposal. Worried that Leo might get hurt if he was out of her sight, she brought him with her. He ended up choking on a glass of water and had to be rushed to the hospital. The third. A friend suggested I surprise her, so I chose a movie theater. I painstakingly edited three years of footage down to a two-minute highlight reel of our happiest moments, ready to propose the second the credits rolled. But Claire didn’t even make it through the opening scene. Leo was upset about getting a bad grade in math, so she snuck out with him and took him to an amusement park. We couldn’t reach her for hours and ended up calling the police, thinking something terrible had happened. The fourth time… The fifth… Each broken promise, each casual disregard, was another knife twisting in my heart. I remembered that just a few days after the amusement park fiasco, I saw a video of them online. A local news crew was interviewing people at the park. The reporter leaned down to Leo. “Hey there, little guy! It’s Valentine’s Day! Did your daddy get your mommy a gift?” Leo, his eyes wide, chirped excitedly, “He did! Daddy gave Mommy a kiss!” And Claire, standing right beside him, just offered a shy, complicit smile. Back then, I had hypnotized myself into believing it was just a kid talking, that I couldn’t trust it unless I saw it with my own eyes. But now, here it was. The proof, preserved in a photograph, printed on an invitation sent to every single person we knew. I finally understood. Some things, no matter how hard you fight for them, are just not meant to be. Waiting for someone to come back to you is the most foolish act of all. Two weeks later, I ran into Gerry at the entrance to City Hall. He looked sour, and a flash of malice crossed his face when he saw me. He stared for a beat, then let out a smirk. “Alex. Still playing the devoted puppy, I see.” “What are you, a stalker now? You really think if you just wait long enough, Claire will come running back to you?” He leaned in, his voice dripping with scorn. “I bet you don’t even know. All your so-called friends, the ones who got our invitation? They’ve started a bunch of private group chats just to laugh at you, the guy who wasted years for nothing.” I had been about to ignore him and walk past, but his words stopped me. Did he really think I was here to wait for him and Claire to get divorced so I could immediately take his place? I was in no mood for his games. I shot him a sidelong glance. “You’re pathetic.” Just as I said it, Leo, who had been glaring at me with pure hatred, charged forward like a little cannonball. “You’re the bad guy! It’s all your fault! You’re trying to steal my mommy!” he screamed. “You don’t want me to have a family! You should just die!” He was small, but he was solid, and the impact was surprisingly strong. I stumbled backward down the three steps, my body lurching toward the busy street. For a split second, I saw the blur of oncoming traffic. Then, a slender, elegant figure rushed in from the side, grabbing my arm and yanking me back onto the safety of the sidewalk. “I leave you alone for two minutes to park the car, and you’re already getting bullied?”

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A guy in my class wanted my attention, so he decided the best way to get it was by making lewd jokes to my face. I tried to ignore him. So, he escalated and started spreading filthy rumors about my mother. That was the last straw. I whipped around, grabbed a heavy metal water bottle off the desk, and went to town on him. It took the homeroom teacher and a security guard to pull me off. When they called our parents in, his folks pointed a finger in my face, screaming that girls like me should have been “drowned in the river at birth.” That was their mistake. Because this time, it was my parents’ turn to grab a weapon. 01 The guys in my class loved giving the girls nicknames. There was “Kong,” “Bucktooth,” “Darkie”—you name it, they had a slur for it. My desk mate, Sarah, had the unfortunate last name of “Stools,” so they’d called her “Poop” since freshman year. I wasn’t spared, either. Because I was tall and hit puberty earlier than most, I was one of the first girls to wear a real bra. So, I got the nickname “Dairy Queen.” It was their favorite topic of conversation. Today, after gym class, I heard my name in their mouths again. This time, they were even grosser. They were laughing, miming my running posture by cupping their own chests and panting heavily every two steps. Sarah was furious. “Are you guys psychotic? Jordan doesn’t run like that! You are so disgusting!” “Seriously, that is way out of line. We’re telling the teacher!” The other girls chimed in, rallying around me, angrily calling them out. Brad, the ringleader, just laughed. “What’s out of line? I didn’t say a name. Who told you I was talking about Jordan? I was talking about a cow! A big, milking cow!” He grinned that shameless, punchable grin, banking on the fact that I’d be too humiliated to clap back. He thought the shame would silence me. He was wrong. I stood up and glared right at him. “Who are you calling a cow, you needle-dick?” “You’re swinging around something the size of a toothpick, looking like a shriveled pickle, and you have the nerve to talk? Maybe you should go get surgery, though I doubt it would help you upgrade from a zero.” The insult was venomous. Brad was stunned for a second. Then, he exploded. “Jordan, you bitch!” “Who do you think you are? I’ll beat you to death!” Relying on his height and size, Brad was used to saying whatever he wanted without consequences. No one had ever verbally castrated him in front of an audience before. Humiliated, he clenched his fist and charged at me. The class erupted. Boys held Brad back, shouting “Bro, chill!” and “Don’t hit a girl!” while the girls formed a wall in front of me. The noise attracted the patrolling teacher, Mr. Henderson. But Mr. Henderson wasn’t there to serve justice. He was there to sweep things under the rug. After listening to the chaotic retelling of events, the balding, middle-aged man waved his hand dismissively and pointed at me. “Jordan, is it? Why is your language so foul? Is that how your parents raised you? Making jokes about people’s anatomy? Write a thousand-word apology letter. Have it on my desk by Monday.” “Excuse me?!” The girls were more outraged than I was. “Mr. Henderson, how can you blame Jordan? Brad started it!” “Jordan insulted him back, sure, but Brad gave her a sexual nickname first!” “This is harassment! You’re taking his side! We’re going to the Vice Principal!” Kids these days are sharp. They know exactly how to hit where it hurts. The moment they realized Mr. Henderson was siding with the boys, they rebelled. I stepped to the front and flipped Brad off. “Coward. Toothpick. Loser.” “Jordan!!!” Brad’s face turned purple. He lunged over a desk to slap me. The girls shoved him back, scratching and pulling, protecting me like a phalanx of warriors. I pushed my messy hair out of my eyes, seized the opportunity, grabbed Brad by the collar, and slapped him. My nails left three bright red streaks down his cheek. Seeing the situation spiraling, Mr. Henderson panicked. He ran to get our substitute homeroom teacher, Mr. Lee. Mr. Lee was another piece of work. He was the type who openly said, “Premature dating is always the girl’s fault for seducing the boy.” Seeing the gender war erupting in his classroom, he didn’t even ask questions. He ordered me to read my apology letter in front of the entire school at the Monday morning assembly. To appear “fair,” he told Brad to clean the chalkboard for a week. Everyone knew cleaning the board was a joke compared to a public apology at an assembly. That was a formal disciplinary action. It was a public shaming. The girls’ rage was enough to blow the roof off the school. I raised a hand to stop them. Looking at Brad’s gloating face and Mr. Lee’s blatant bias, I replied calmly. “Fine. Monday assembly. I’ll do it.” 02 I didn’t write a single word of that apology. I didn’t think I was wrong. I didn’t think I owed anyone anything. So, I found an old essay, crossed out the title, and wrote [Apology Letter] at the top. Then, I walked confidently onto the stage in the auditorium. I took the microphone from Mr. Lee, faced the entire student body, and said one sentence: “Please, learn from me.” “Jordan, are you crazy?!” Mr. Lee hissed, his eyes bulging. He realized too late that I was going off-script. He lunged to grab the mic. I didn’t let him. I ran across the stage, shouting into the microphone as I dodged him. “I don’t think I was wrong! And I don’t think fighting back is crossing the line! Some people are born cheap and won’t learn until they get hit!” “You laugh when you give people nicknames, but you cry when you get one back? Brad, you are the most spineless coward in history. Even a dog would spit on you for bad luck!” “You think you won? You only ‘won’ because the teachers are biased! If you had any guts, you’d own up to your nasty habit of sexually harassing girls! If your parents came to school, I’d ask them exactly how they raised such a disgusting piece of trash!” “You have no shame! You think acting like a clown gets you attention? Brad, let me tell you—in everyone’s eyes, you’re just a joke!” I got all my anger out before the administration cornered me like a game of hawk-and-chicken. I was caught, obviously. But I held my head high. I didn’t feel an ounce of shame. Standing in the principal’s office later, I was smiling. Especially when I saw Brad outside, looking furious but terrified to show his face, shrinking away from everyone’s gaze. I stared at him, remembering how arrogant he used to be. It felt amazing. “Well said!” “We’re with you, Jordan!” “Good job!” The girls in my class started clapping. Even though Mr. Lee was screaming for order, they cheered for me. Applause is contagious. Led by my class, girls from other grades started clapping too. Some even shouted that I was their hero. I felt vindicated. I realized that bravery feels good. I realized that if I go crazy enough, no one dares to bully me. Not even the biased teachers. The Principal reprimanded Mr. Henderson and Mr. Lee for letting it get this far, criticizing their lack of professionalism. Brad was quiet for a few days. The other boys, seeing their leader taken down a peg, stopped using the nicknames. We thought we could go back to studying, to living a normal high school life. We thought nobody would be stupid enough to start trouble again. That’s how I thought it ended. But I forgot that some people are born petty. They have to win, no matter how dirty they have to play. Brad was that kind of person. A few days later, a vague rumor started circulating on the school’s Discord server and anonymous confessions page. It said a female student’s mother worked in “that kind of industry” and serviced old men. The attached photo was a woman in a cocktail dress, her face blurred out. Because the post used banned words, the students, hungry for drama, started digging. They wanted to know whose parent was so “scandalous.” They dug and dug until they pointed the finger at me. Because my mom liked fashion. She liked wearing nice dresses when she picked me up. Just like that, inexplicably, my mother became a sex worker in the mouths of these disgusting boys. When I heard the rumor, I was stunned. I never thought the misogyny would be directed at my mother. I was consumed by rage. Without evidence, just because my mom dressed nicely, they did this? I was going to find out which little bastard started it, and I was going to kill him. I started my own investigation. I threatened the admins of the confession page, telling them this wasn’t over, that this was defamation, and I would call the police if they didn’t give me the source. The issue had gotten too big in the group chats. The admins, terrified of liability, gave me the user ID immediately. It was a burner account. But in the digital footprint, I found a frequent visitor link. It led straight to Brad’s main profile. There was nothing left to understand. I laughed out of pure anger. I gripped the heavy metal water bottle in my hand, feeling like I had been too gentle before. I had given him the ability to hurt my family. So, the next morning, I stood at the classroom door with my water bottle, waiting for Brad. The moment he walked in, I slapped him. Before he could react, I smashed the metal bottle directly onto his head. Clang. Everyone froze. No one knew why I had snapped. No one knew why I was starting the day with violence. They just watched, stunned, as I jumped on Brad and started swinging the bottle like a maniac. Brad took several hits. A lump was already forming on his head. But he refused to submit. “Jordan! Why are you hitting me?!” “I didn’t even talk to you today! Are you off your meds?!” “Off my meds? You want to know why I’m crazy?” I wiped a splatter of blood from my eye, smiling like a demon. “I’m not just crazy, I’m going to end you!” “You spread rumors about my mom! You photoshopped her face onto porn actresses and spammed the group chats! If I don’t beat you to death today, I don’t deserve to be her daughter!” I threw the dented water bottle aside and pulled a heavy thermos from my other pocket. I swung again. This time I missed, and Brad scrambled away, crawling on the floor, running for his life. I chased him, hair wild, thermos raised high. I was going to beat the shit out of him. “Jordan! Jordan, wait!” Sarah was chasing me. Seeing me standing at the school gate looking like a predator, she rushed over to grab my thermos. I was furious. “Sarah, are you stopping me? If you stop me, we are done! I have to end him today!” I couldn’t believe it. Sarah was siding with that trash? Was she not my best friend? My eyes burned with tears. Then, she pried my fingers open. She took the thermos. And placed a badminton racket in my hand. “My dad bought this. It’s titanium alloy. Light, aerodynamic, and hurts like hell.” “The thermos is too clumsy. This is better.” “…Oh.” 03 Armed with my new weapon, I resumed the hunt. I circled the playground but didn’t see the little coward. He was loud when he was insulting people. He was happy when he was spreading rumors. But when it came time to take a beating, he ran faster than a stray dog. He shouldn’t be running. He should be standing there like a man to take his punishment. I sneered and turned toward the academic building’s restrooms. Sure enough, in the first-floor boys’ bathroom, I caught Brad lurking. His face was black and blue, his hair was a bird’s nest, and his shirt buttons were ripped off. He looked like a beggar. Seeing me, he actually shrieked and tried to dive into a stall, looking like he planned to hide there until the end of time. I slammed the racket against the bathroom door and shouted inside: “Any guys in there, finish up and get out! I’m settling a debt with Brad.” “If you don’t want to be collateral damage, leave now! Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” “I’m counting to twenty!” I counted down. Once I was sure the innocent bystanders had fled, I rolled up my sleeves and charged. I saw Brad scrambling to climb out the window, stepping on a mop bucket. I didn’t think. I sprinted over, grabbed his pants, and yanked him back. Mr. Lee and a crowd of administrators burst in just in time to see me dragging Brad by the waistband, trying to pull him off the windowsill. Brad was wailing, covering his exposed boxers, begging me to spare him. Spare him? Who spared my mother? I used all my strength, planted my foot against the wall, and yanked him down to the wet tile floor. Before the teachers could reach us, I grabbed his collar and slapped him again. “Why didn’t you think about this when you were typing those lies?” “Insulting me wasn’t enough? You had to go after my mom? I’ll teach you to talk about my mom!” I kicked. I swung the racket. The strings turned his face into a waffle. Three teachers tried to hold me back. I threw my shoes at him. I grabbed a wet floor sign and threw that too. I was uncontrollable. The Dean of Students finally had to call my original homeroom teacher, Mrs. Davis, who was on maternity leave, to talk me down. Hearing Mrs. Davis’s gentle voice on the phone, the adrenaline finally crashed. “Mrs. Davis… when are you coming back? Brad and the others are bullying us. The nicknames weren’t enough, now they’re going after my family.” “No one helps us. No one cares about how the girls feel. Mr. Lee doesn’t care, he only cares about the boys…” “No one helps me… no one…” I broke down, sitting on the dirty bathroom floor, sobbing my heart out. It hadn’t been like this before. When Mrs. Davis was here, Brad never dared to go this far. Mrs. Davis started crying on the other end of the line. She promised to come back as soon as she could. Before hanging up, she yelled through the phone for Mr. Lee to “Wait right there.” The teachers stood awkwardly. Mr. Lee looked pale. Facing the Dean’s angry glare, Mr. Lee couldn’t say a word. When the investigation revealed Brad was the source of the rumors, I had texted Mr. Lee for help. His reply? [Tell your mom not to wear such flashy dresses.] [If she wore normal clothes, none of this would happen.] So it was my mom’s fault? That text was the spark that burned my rationality to ash. It was why I hunted Brad down without mercy. Because the system had failed me. And I didn’t want my mom to know. I was too ashamed. “Dean.” I wiped the hair from my face, staring dead at Brad in the crowd. “Expel me. Suspend me. I don’t care. But Brad goes down with me!” 04 “Kid, don’t talk about dying. It’s bad luck.” The Dean didn’t argue with me. He handed me a pack of tissues and told me to clean myself up in the girls’ room, go to the nurse, and then come to the office to meet the parents. Only then did I realize that in my rage, I had hurt myself. My adrenaline had masked the pain of two torn fingernails. Sarah washed my hands for me, crying the whole time. The other girls fixed my hair and clothes. One girl took off her jacket and put it on me to cover my torn collar. “I know Brad’s parents,” the Class President said calmly as we walked to the nurse’s office. “They are notoriously unreasonable.” “They will definitely focus on the fact that you hit him first. Don’t let them twist the narrative.” “Don’t be afraid in that office. I’m going to borrow a phone and call my parents. I’m telling them about the insults. We’re making this huge.” “Right. Don’t be scared, Jordan. We’re here.” Sarah wiped her eyes. “Brad’s crew wrote disgusting stories about me, too. I ignored it before. I’m calling my dad now to come back me up.” “They always bully us because we stay silent.” “You can’t be afraid.” The Arts Rep’s eyes were red. “I… I’m calling my parents too. They call me ‘Blackie’ and say dirty things to my face. My mom is fierce. She’ll destroy them.” The girls surrounded me, a tight circle of support. I nodded, smearing tears across my face. “I’m not afraid. Don’t worry. I won’t be afraid.” I had accepted the consequences the night before. If you dare speak ill of my mother, you better be prepared for me to fight until the bitter end. So I went. To face Brad’s unreasonable, unforgiving parents. Sure enough, seeing their son looking like a waffle iron victim, Brad’s parents exploded. They tried to charge through the wall of teachers to tear me apart. I stood three feet away, watching them scream like banshees, and laughed coldly. “Uncle, Auntie. You’re right. I beat the hell out of your son.” “I admit I tried to hurt him. If I could, I’d do it again right now.” “I don’t think I’m wrong. Brad is a scumbag who deserved to be smashed into the floor. You should thank me. Thank me that I was the one who beat him today.” “If it were someone else, you’d be identifying a body right now.” That triggered Brad’s mom. She started shrieking. “You hit him and you’re proud?! If my son has a scar or brain damage, I’m calling the police!” “I’m calling the police too!” If she glared at me, I glared back harder. “If you can’t teach your son, shove him back where he came from!” “I’m telling you, this isn’t over! He came for my mother. I’m going to find every group chat he made, and you better prepare yourself for him to get slapped again!” The more I spoke, the angrier I got. I kicked a chair over, grabbed the sitting Brad, and cocked my fist again. The Dean had to sit between us, using his body as a shield. Seeing me target her son, Brad’s mom finally shut up. That allowed her husband to speak. “I know Brad made a mistake, but it wasn’t a big deal, was it? No one knows your mom. Just deny it. By chasing him around the school, aren’t you just admitting the rumor is true?” “Why make a mountain out of a molehill? If people gossip about your mom now, that’s your fault, not Brad’s.” “Besides, my son has a bad temper, but he doesn’t bully people without reason. There must be a cause.” “Last time he came home with scratches on his face. I asked him, but he wouldn’t say…” Brad’s dad sighed, acting like his son was a noble martyr who finally snapped. If I weren’t the victim, I’d have applauded this middle-aged man’s performance. He could teach a masterclass in gaslighting. Too bad I wasn’t falling into the self-defense trap. And I definitely wasn’t going to debate whether my mom should wear a qipao or a cocktail dress. I smiled openly. “Oh? Victim blaming. Classic.” “You blind, giant babies. With a disability like yours, why haven’t you applied for welfare?” “Let me tell you something. Leading a group to mock people is bullying. Your son didn’t stop there; he manufactured sexual rumors about my mother. If that post gets 500 reposts or 5000 views, your son goes to juvie!” “You can say ‘he’s just a child’ a million times, but the law doesn’t care. Take your twisted logic to the police and see if they buy it!” I rolled my eyes. I probably looked like a villain, mocking them like that. But it felt good. Watching Brad’s parents’ faces twist? Even better. Girls need to be brave. We need to be tough. When you decide to bite back hard, no one dares to yap at you anymore. See? Brad’s parents, who were screaming murder a minute ago, heard “juvie” and went quiet as mice. Too bad I wasn’t buying their peace offering. I sneered again. “You sneeze without a jacket and blame the kid blowing bubbles 200 yards away for giving you a cold. Sir, are you a professional scammer? You seem very practiced at lying down in traffic to claim insurance money.” “You!!” Brad’s dad turned purple, choking on his rage. I watched with a smirk, coldly observing, hoping he might actually choke on his own spit. As if they were the only ones with mouths. If they dared to push the blame on me, I’d dump the whole trash can on their heads. I hit him. I admit that. But Brad wasn’t going to play the victim. He didn’t deserve it.

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Recently, Ethan, the school heartthrob, has been getting very close to Lily, the scholarship student who looks like a pure little white flower. Everyone was betting with an attitude of watching a drama: When will his domineering childhood sweetheart, Sophia, snap? After all, it’s an open secret that Sophia likes Ethan. But a whole week passed. Sophia still hasn’t gone to trouble the little white flower. Some people couldn’t hold back and went to investigate. They found that Sophia was actually very busy. Busy doing charity work. Busy getting first place in exams. Busy setting an example for her three-year-old demon sister. 1 My sister, Sophia, is the vicious female supporting character in a novel. Out of jealousy towards the female lead’s pursuit of her childhood sweetheart. She used her status as a wealthy heiress to suppress and bully the female lead in school. In the end, under the halo of the male and female leads, her family was ruined and people died. No way. I’m only three years old. I haven’t even touched a Black Card yet. Is my life as a rich second-generation slacker going to end just like that? To keep my wealth and glory. I decided to find something for my sister to do. The first thing: being called by the teacher to school. Sophia looked at the surveillance footage. Veins popped on her forehead. “Chloe, who let you ride the kindergarten kids like horses!” I puffed out my chest confidently. “I gave them money!” Sophia gritted her teeth in anger. “Does giving money make it okay? Who taught you that?” I looked at her with an innocent face. “Sister, you said it yourself, money is omnipotent. You can pay the gardener to shave his head, why can’t I pay to ride a horse? It’s not fair!” Sophia choked: “……” This was indeed something she had done. She disliked the new gardener’s hairstyle, so she threw a stack of money at him to shave his head. She even blurted out this famous quote. Didn’t expect this scene to be imitated by me. On the way home. She was exceptionally silent. Probably not reflecting on herself. But worrying that my behavior would affect the family. After all, this is an aristocratic kindergarten. The classmates I rode also have money and power at home. Anyway, I can’t be allowed to do this anymore. She thought for a whole night. The next day, she had dark circles under her eyes and preached to me. “Chloe, as the saying goes, when poor, attend to your own virtue in solitude; when wealthy, make the whole world virtuous. We rich people need to restrain our words and deeds even more. We can’t use money to do bad things, we must do more good deeds to help others, understand?” My eyes were clear: “Didn’t understand.” Sophia: “……It’s okay, sister will set an example for you.” Since then, every time she took me out, she would lead by example. Sometimes going to the orphanage to do charity. Sometimes signing up as a community volunteer to pick up trash. Sometimes donating supplies to children in mountainous areas in my name. At first, it was to educate me. Later, she enjoyed it herself. She even developed a good habit of helping old ladies cross the street. 2 I finally stopped riding my classmates like horses. Before she could be relieved for a few days. The second thing came: Still being called by the teacher to school. This is already the fifth English teacher I’ve angered away. I attend a bilingual kindergarten. The school anniversary will organize children to perform programs in English on stage. And my current level belongs to basically not understanding what other kids are saying. Sophia finally realized the seriousness of the matter. Her eyes were dangerous. “Why don’t you study seriously with the teacher?” I said proudly: “Because sister, you said only poor people need to study, rich people just need to eat, drink and have fun!” Sophia’s face turned green with anger, taking a deep breath. “When did I say that?” I made a sound of surprise. “Did you forget? Mom called before asking why you didn’t study hard, and that’s what you told Mom.” “Sister, you are my idol! I remember every sentence you said, amazing right!” Sophia: “……” She blushed with anger. After that day, countless late nights, I could see her figure studying hard. A month later, she put two report cards in front of me. Last monthly exam and this monthly exam. She improved by more than a hundred places. “Chloe, everyone needs to study. If you don’t study, you will become a fool, understand?” “Look, before, sister said those brainless words because she didn’t study. Now that sister studies, she understands that studying can make people smart, increase knowledge, and give people fighting spirit and a sense of achievement.” “Do you want to be a fool forever?” Looking at the dark circles under Sophia’s eyes like a panda. I swallowed my saliva. Studying turns you into this, so scary! Might as well be a fool. Seeing me unmoved, Sophia said faintly: “If you don’t study, you can’t manage the company. If you can’t manage the company, our family will go bankrupt. Do you want to become a beggar sleeping on the street?” I shook my head in horror. Sophia showed a triumphant smile. Hit a snake at its weak point. Studying really makes people smart. 3 The third thing, and the most crucial one. Stop Sophia from sending love letters to Ethan. Because Ethan will reject her without hesitation. Sophia will hate the female lead even more out of humiliation and anger. Childhood sweethearts breaking up here. Planting the root of disaster. But during this time. Sophia’s attention was all on me. She had no time to trouble the female lead at all. Maybe she doesn’t like Ethan anymore? I have to test it properly. “I’m back.” Sophia looked a bit tired today. I glanced into the car. Still no sign of Ethan. Don’t know since when. They stopped going to and from school together. I pounced on her and hugged her leg. Excitedly spread out a piece of paper. “Sister, this is the love letter I wrote for Steven!” Sophia’s face changed, angrily saying: “Writing love letters at such a young age!” Being scolded, I lay on the ground willfully crying and making a fuss. “I don’t care, I just want Steven to be my boyfriend!” Sophia rubbed her forehead. She went to my parent-teacher meeting. Had some impression of this Steven. He is the most handsome and popular kid in kindergarten. It’s just that he only likes playing with his little deskmate. She asked me: “What if Steven likes someone else and doesn’t like you?” I clenched my little fist. “Then I’ll snatch him over!” Sophia laughed in anger. “This is also what I taug-” Before finishing, she thought of something and froze. Her face slightly pale. “Sister?” She came back to her senses, saying toughly: “This kind of behavior is bad.” “And you are still a child, can’t write love letters, confiscated!” She snatched my love letter and went upstairs. I pouted, very unhappy. “Then when can I write?” “When you become an adult at eighteen.” I grabbed the railing and shouted at her. “Then you are not allowed to write either!” Sophia paused slightly. Then she responded to me. “Mm, I won’t write either.” Oh yeah! Sophia never lies to me. She says she won’t write, so she definitely won’t! Sure enough, when I went to her room at night, I saw shredded paper of love letters. She really gave up on Ethan? I went back to my room dizzily. Rich second-generation life, saved! 4 I thought the plot was finally going to change. Didn’t expect an uninvited guest to arrive at home a few days later. Caleb. If nothing unexpected happens. He is Sophia’s future marriage partner. The two families arranged a baby engagement long ago. He transferred here this time because the family arranged it. Let him cultivate feelings with Sophia slowly. But he had no interest in an arrogant young lady like Sophia. Instead, he was attracted by the independent and strong female lead. Childhood sweetheart and future marriage partner both like her. Adding fuel to Sophia’s darkening. Even to the point of paranoia and madness. Readers think she is hateful. But as her sister. I only feel heartache. I clenched my backpack straps. Staring at Caleb very warily. He has a handsome, unruly face. His left ear is adorned with a flamboyant silver stud. He lifted his eyelids. “Yo, Sophia’s sister, what’s your name again?” Tch. Tasteless second male lead. Don’t even think about knowing my name. I hummed and turned my face away, ignoring him. Caleb was a bit surprised. “You look so much like your sister.” My footsteps paused. Heard him continue: “Both so impolite.” My face twisted: “Don’t you dare talk about my sister!” He wanted to say something more. Interrupted by Sophia’s voice from upstairs. “Chloe, go watch cartoons for a while, Auntie Zhang made you dessert.” I looked up and smiled sweetly. “Okay!” Caleb pointed at himself. “What about me?” Sophia glanced at him coldly. “You come to my room.” Caleb looked struck by lightning. Ear tips slightly red, standing there like a fool. I heard him mutter softly. “This… isn’t this too fast?” I rolled my eyes.

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1 My father died in a fire, trying to save the daughter of the woman he never got over. I drove to the hospital through the night. The moment I saw his body, I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my face. A staff member kindly nudged me. “Could you try to be a little quieter?” But later, when they handed me the urn with my father’s ashes, I laughed even louder. Oh, my dear, dear father. If you were going to die, couldn’t you have at least written a will first? Leaving me with billions in assets… you’re just too generous. … When I got the news that my father, Arthur, had died trying to save Stella, I rushed to the hospital. He was lying on a gurney in the morgue. His face was a mess of charred flesh, and there wasn’t a single patch of intact skin left on his body. Seeing him like that, I just couldn’t hold it in. The attendant standing beside me couldn’t take it anymore. He tapped my arm. “Could you… keep it down?” I mumbled an apology, but I practically skipped to the counter to get his death certificate. With the certificate in hand, I wasted no time arranging for his cremation. While I waited for the ashes, I called his lawyer and confirmed what I already suspected: my father had left no will. He had no wife. He had no other children. I was the only name listed as his next of kin. Naturally, the entire inheritance was mine. I moved quickly, transferring all the assets into my name: the mansion in the Westridge neighborhood, the company he owned, the fleet of luxury cars in the garage. Oh, and the house my father had so graciously lent to Stella. I don’t like filthy things living in my property, so on a bright, sunny afternoon, I paid her a visit and asked her to move out. But when she saw me, Stella refused to even open the door. Instead, she called the police. The moment the officers arrived, the door flew open. Stella leaped out, pointing a finger at me. “That’s her, officer! She’s trespassing!” I quickly explained myself. “Officer, please don’t listen to her. I just knocked on the door. I didn’t try to force my way in.” “You call that knocking? You were trying to break my door down!” Stella grabbed one of the officer’s arms, her finger still aimed at me like a weapon. “Officer, you have to take her away.” The officer shot her a look that was hard to read. He shook her hand off and turned to me. “What’s going on here?” I put on my most innocent face. “I honestly just knocked. Is that considered trespassing?” “No, but it could be considered disturbing the peace, you understand?” Hearing that, a smug look of triumph spread across Stella’s face. “But officer, this is my house,” I said, pulling the deed and my ID from my purse. “Is it a crime to knock on my own door?” One of the officers took the documents, carefully comparing the photo on my ID to my face. He confirmed it. This was my house. He frowned. “This is your house, but you don’t have a key?” I pouted. “Not when someone is squatting in my property and refuses to leave. Officer, wouldn’t that be considered unlawful occupation of property?” Stella jumped in. “What do you mean, your house? This is Mr. Hayes’s house! You just wait, I’m going to call him right now and have him deal with you.” Right there, in front of everyone, Stella called my father’s number. Again and again. When none of the calls went through, a flicker of panic crossed her face. “Don’t bother,” I said with a small laugh. “He’s not going to pick up.” “Don’t you get cocky, Ava! Mr. Hayes is probably just busy!” My smile widened. “Oh, he’s busy, all right. Busy being dead.” Stella’s face changed, her voice turning shrill. “What did you just say? Arthur is your own father! How could you curse him like that? Do you want me to tell him what you said? He’ll break your legs!” “Ooh, I’m so scared,” I said, crossing my arms with a bored expression. “Too bad he’ll never hear you snitch on me again. Did you forget, Stella? There was a fire at your school a couple of days ago. My dad was there dropping something off for you. When he heard your classroom was on fire, he ran right in to save you. Except he never found you. And he burned to death.” I let out a dramatic sigh. “Such a shame. My father cared more about you than his own daughter, and you two didn’t even get to see each other one last time.” “You’re lying! You’re just trying to curse him!” Stella stared at me for a few seconds, her emotions escalating until she actually lunged at me, ready to strike. I quickly ducked behind one of the officers. “Help! She’s trying to kill me! Officer, arrest her!” Having witnessed the entire spectacle, the officers finally understood the situation. One of them restrained Stella, pulling us apart. They told her to calm down and gave me a verbal warning. It was a domestic dispute, and they knew better than to get too involved. In the end, they took us down to the station to give statements. As they were letting us go, I overheard one of the officers telling Stella, “Look, the house belongs to her. You can’t act like this. If you want to keep living there, you need to talk to her nicely. If not, you need to pack your things and leave.” My respect for that officer skyrocketed. I wanted to send him a commendation. Just as I stepped out of the police station, Stella’s mother, Lillian, arrived. When she saw me, she plastered on her usual fake, benevolent smile. “Ava, honey, when did you get back? Why didn’t you tell me? Your father and I would have picked you up.” “Hold it right there, Lillian,” I interrupted. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves with the family reunion. I came back to collect my father’s body. Oh, and by the way,” I covered my mouth and giggled, “your wedding is next week, right? You should probably let the guests know. It would be a little embarrassing to be a bride with no groom.” Lillian’s phony expression finally cracked. She sneered. “Ava, no matter how much you dislike me, you shouldn’t curse your own father. He was good to you.” He really was. He let my mother die for his first love. He threw me, his own daughter, out of the house for a girl who wasn’t even his stepdaughter. Where else in the world could you find such a wonderful father? “You don’t believe me, Lillian?” I shrugged. “I guess that makes sense. After all, you and my father never got a marriage license. The hospital wouldn’t have known to call you. It fell to me, the younger generation, to handle such a major life event for the first time.” I pulled my father’s death certificate from my bag and tossed it at their feet. Lillian’s face instantly turned a sickly gray. She swayed on her feet, barely held up by Stella. “Stella,” I said, turning to her, “I’m selling the house you’re living in. You have one week to move out. Otherwise, I’m calling the police.” “Oh, and Lillian? That mansion you’re staying in? You’ll have to move out of that too. But you’ve been there for years, so I’m sure you have a lot of stuff. Don’t worry, I’ll help you find a moving company. As for all the jewelry and things my father gave you… you can keep them. Consider it compensation for all the years you spent by his side without a ring on your finger.” I put on my sunglasses and walked away without a shred of emotion. Behind me, I heard Stella scream as Lillian collapsed to the ground. The next day, I went to the bank. My father was an overly cautious man. He never kept anything valuable at home; it was all locked away in a safe deposit box. If he had kept it at the mansion, Lillian would have cleaned the place out long ago. There would have been nothing left for me to inherit. Looking at the gold bars and antique artifacts, I could barely keep my jaw from hitting the floor. After a quick inventory and some paperwork, it was all officially mine. To celebrate, I treated myself to an extravagant lunch at a five-star hotel. Full and happy, I headed home for a well-deserved beauty sleep. But as my car entered our gated community, I was stopped by a security guard. The guard, a kind man named Tom, pulled me aside and whispered, “Miss Hayes, that mistress ‘auntie’ of yours is here.” Mistress auntie? It took me a second to realize he meant Lillian. Years ago, my father had thrown me out of the mansion while I was sick, all for her. The scandal had spread through the entire neighborhood, and Lillian had become a local pariah. That was why they had never lived there after my mother passed away. “She brought an older woman with her, said she was your aunt. I didn’t want to let them in, but my supervisor…” Lillian must have bribed him. I smiled sweetly. “Thank you for the heads-up, Tom. I appreciate it.” “They seemed really angry. They already used the keypad to get in. You should be careful.” He was genuinely concerned for my safety. I thanked him again. Then, my eyes fell on the stun gun on his belt, and an idea sparked. “Tom,” I said, “can I buy that stun gun off you?” Before I went inside, I checked the security camera feed on my phone. There they were, my aunt Brenda, Lillian, and Stella, sitting in my living room. Brenda was looking around at my decor, and as I watched, she casually slipped a small antique into her purse. I saved the footage. Then, I took a deep breath, walked to the front door, entered the code, and barged in, stun gun held high. “Thieves! Get out of my house, you filthy thieves! I’ll kill you!” I closed my eyes and started swinging the stun gun wildly. I heard a few screams, and finally, my aunt’s sharp, piercing voice. “Ava, you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you! Look at me! It’s me!” I got in two more hits before I stopped. I feigned surprise. “Aunt Brenda? What are you doing here?” Her face was covered in red marks, some already turning blue. She glared at me with pure fury. “You little brat, Ava! How dare you strike your elder? You’ll be damned for this!” I kept up the innocent act. “Brenda, what a terrible thing to say. You came into my house without telling me. I saw people in my living room and naturally assumed you were burglars. I have so many antiques, you know. It’s so easy for one to go missing.” At the mention of that, Brenda subtly shifted her purse behind her back. She cleared her throat. “Ava, your father has only been dead for a few days, and you’ve already had him cremated. Why didn’t you inform your elders?” “Elders? If I remember correctly, my grandmother is dead. What other elders are there?” “Ava, no matter what, Brenda is your father’s sister. She’s your aunt. It’s not appropriate for you to speak to her like that,” Lillian chimed in, trying to act like a respected elder herself. “We don’t share the same parents. How exactly is she my real aunt?” I retorted. My biological grandfather died young. My grandmother remarried, taking my father with her. Brenda was my step-grandfather’s daughter from a previous relationship. We had no blood relation whatsoever. “Ava!” Brenda exploded. Lillian patted her shoulder, reminding her to focus on the real issue. Brenda took a moment to compose herself, adopting a condescending tone. “Your father is gone, so someone needs to be the voice of reason in this family. I hear you’ve taken all the assets for yourself. That’s not right. You need to give Lillian her share.” “And why should I?” I sneered. “Lillian never married my father, did she?” I had already confirmed everything with the lawyer. Lillian and my father had planned to get their marriage license the day before the wedding. What a shame. “But they were about to get married,” Brenda insisted. “But they weren’t married yet. The state doesn’t recognize them as a couple, so why should I?” My words must have hit a nerve, because Brenda’s face turned a shade of purple. Lillian tried to play the victim. “Ava, it’s not that I want to fight you for this inheritance. It’s just that now, I have…” She touched her stomach, her words trailing off. I cut her off. “Well, spit it out.” Stella immediately jumped to her feet. “Are you blind, Ava? Can’t you see? My mom is pregnant with your father’s child! Even if you don’t give my mom a share of the inheritance, this baby has a right to it!” I laughed coldly. “And who can prove that’s my father’s child?” Brenda interjected, “I can prove it! Ava, we’re trying to be nice because you’re still young. We don’t want to make this ugly. Otherwise, we would have sued you already!” I laughed even harder. “Then please, go ahead and sue me.” “You’re insane!” Brenda grabbed Lillian’s arm and started pulling her towards the door. “I told you, there’s no talking to this brat. Let’s go find a lawyer.” As the three of them were about to leave, I said, “Wait a moment.”

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1 When I got the call that my wife was in surgery, I battled a hurricane and torrential rain for four hours, driving back to the city. When I arrived at the hospital, my wife, Stella, was lying in her hospital bed, deliriously calling out, “I want my husband! Get my husband in here, now!” Her circle of friends chuckled, teasing her for being so obsessed with her husband. Everyone said she was madly in love with me. Their playful jabs made my cheeks flush, but my heart swelled with happiness. I walked over and took Stella’s hand. “I’m here.” But she recoiled, yanking her hand away with a frown of disgust. “Get lost! You’re not my husband! My husband is Julian!” … The once-lively hospital room fell into a strange, suffocating silence. One by one, her so-called best friends wore masks of awkwardness, their eyes darting anywhere but at me. I scanned their faces, and the cold truth settled in my stomach: they all knew who Julian was. Suddenly, I felt like a clown. That look of blissful love I’d worn just moments ago must have seemed both pathetic and amusing to them. Someone stammered, trying to break the tension. “Uh… Leo, don’t mind her. Stella’s just loopy from the anesthesia. She’s talking nonsense.” The others quickly jumped in. “Yeah, everyone knows how much Stella adores you. She’s crazy about you. This is definitely just the drugs talking.” “Right, right! Julian is just her assistant. He could never compare to you in her heart, Leo.” One of them nudged the speaker, a silent warning to shut up. I said nothing. I could only feel the numbness in my feet, which had been soaked in cold rainwater for over four hours. Stella was still rambling. “Where’s my husband? Where is he? Faye, call my husband, quickly!” Her voice started to crack with a childish pout. “He promised he’d always be with me, so why isn’t he here? I can’t sleep without his abs…” My hand, still holding hers, began to tremble. “Stella,” I asked, my voice tight, “who am I?” She looked at me through a hazy fog, and after a long moment, three words slurred from her lips: “Pathetic… loser.” A sharp pain lanced through my heart, and my eyes stung. We had been high school sweethearts, together from seventeen to thirty. All these years, I had catered to her every whim, given her everything she asked for. And in her eyes, all of it just made me a “pathetic loser.” How laughable… how tragic… Finally, I picked up Stella’s phone and called her assistant, Julian. When Julian arrived, he walked past me as if I were invisible. He cupped Stella’s face, his voice dripping with concern. “Stella, my love, I’m so sorry I’m late. You’ve suffered so much.” Stella’s eyes crinkled into a blissful smile as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “My love, you’re finally here. Someone was pretending to be you just now, but I’m not stupid. How could I not recognize my own husband? I told him to get lost!” Julian shot me a triumphant glance before cooing at Stella like she was a child. “My girl is so smart.” Stella pointed to her lips. “Don’t I get a reward?” And just like that, they began to kiss, deeply and passionately, as if I wasn’t even there. Watching them, my throat felt raw, and a bitter rage surged through me. I dug my nails into my thighs, trying to ground myself, but I couldn’t stop the cold tremors wracking my body. Her friend, Faye, took pity on me, whispering, “Leo, maybe… maybe you should go home for now? I’m sure Stella will explain everything when she’s fully awake.” Explain? They were one step away from consummating their affair right in front of me. What was there left to explain? The irony was crushing. Half an hour ago, I saw Stella as the perfect wife, a woman who doted on me, a source of pride I would boast about to anyone who would listen. Thirteen years of love and companionship, and we had never even raised our voices at each other. I cherished her, and she adored me—or so I thought. We were two perfectly matched souls. So when that illusion shattered, it triggered a violent earthquake in my world. And I was destined to be buried in the rubble. I silently stood up and left the room. The moment the door closed behind me, I heard a collective sigh of relief from her friends, as if they’d finally gotten rid of a suffocating curse. I realized then that at some point, not just Stella, but her entire circle of friends had silently “removed” me from their world. I didn’t sleep that night. My dreams were a torturous slideshow of our thirteen years together, each memory a fresh stab of pain that left me breathless. A fever took hold, and I tossed and turned, burning up, struggling to wake from the nightmare but unable to open my eyes. Just as I thought I might be dying, I felt a hand on my forehead and heard someone anxiously calling my name. “Leo… my love.” I had no strength to respond. Tears streamed freely down my face. Only in the darkness of my subconscious did I dare to cry so openly, without fear of being mocked for my weakness. When I finally regained consciousness, I saw Stella sitting by my bed, her face etched with exhaustion. I hadn’t expected to see her. For a moment, I thought last night had been a fever dream, and I could only stare at her, disoriented. Seeing me awake, she grabbed my hand, her voice filled with relief. “Honey, how are you feeling?” I pulled my hand from her grasp, my voice cold. “Am I your honey? Or the pathetic loser?” The color drained from Stella’s face. Her eyes reddened as she slapped herself hard across the cheek. “I’m so sorry,” she choked out. “It was the anesthesia, I swear. My mind was a total mess. I… I don’t know why I would do something so horrible. When I finally came to my senses, I was filled with so much regret and fear.” “I was terrified you would leave me. The doctor wouldn’t discharge me, but I left anyway.” With a pained grunt, she struggled to her feet and lifted the hem of her shirt. She’d had an appendectomy, and fresh blood was already seeping through the gauze dressing. The thought that she had watched over me all night softened the edges of my anger. Looking into her pleading eyes, I allowed a sliver of doubt to creep in. What if she’s telling the truth? Maybe… maybe she wasn’t a lost cause. Maybe she had developed a simple crush on a younger, more vivacious man, a fleeting attraction that paled in comparison to her love for me. If she could just snuff out that flame, perhaps we could go back to the way things were. But the image of them kissing in front of everyone was a fishbone lodged in my throat. As if reading my mind, Stella leaned in, peppering my face with kisses, her voice thick with tears. “My love, are you disgusted with me? I’ll go wash my mouth out. I’ll have a doctor peel a layer of skin off my lips, okay? Just please, don’t despise me. I love you so much.” “I don’t want anyone but you! I don’t know why the anesthesia made me act like that. I already fired Julian this morning. No matter what, his actions last night prove he has improper intentions toward me. A man like that, a homewrecker with no morals, is someone I would never, ever be interested in!” She paused, her expression turning earnest. “You know how much I hate cheaters. How could I ever do something like that?” I looked at Stella, her face a mask of sincerity, and thought of her past. Her mother had committed suicide after her father’s affair, leaving Stella with a deep-seated hatred for infidelity. She was known to refuse business deals with people of questionable character. Besides, if she truly had someone else in her heart, why would she have always been so good to me? Right then, I decided to give her one more chance. She hugged me tightly, her tears soaking into my shirt, hot against my skin. They felt like a tranquilizer, calming the storm inside me. I wrapped my arms around her. “My moon,” I whispered, “don’t lie to me. Or you’ll lose your star.” Star. It was my childhood nickname, the name she used to love calling me. Her body stiffened for a fraction of a second, but then she pulled back, her gaze unwavering. “My star, don’t you worry. Your moon will never betray you.” And just like that, we reconciled. Stella became even more attentive than before. She started turning down social events to wait for me outside my office. We’d go to the market together, then cook side-by-side in our kitchen. She sent afternoon tea to my colleagues, asking them to take good care of me. My coworkers praised my “wife-taming skills” and asked for my secrets. But unlike the pride and confidence I once felt, now I could only offer a hollow smile. What happened that night had become a permanent knot in my heart. A month later, Stella told me she was pregnant. Overjoyed, I lifted her into my arms and spun her around. In that moment, I was profoundly grateful that I hadn’t let one bizarre incident destroy our lives. I immediately started researching birthing centers and devouring parenting books, determined to become the best father I could be. Until the day I saw Julian with her at a prenatal check-up. He was gently stroking her belly, his smile full of hopeful anticipation. “Stella, my love,” Julian said softly. “Do you really have the heart to let our child call another man ‘Daddy’?” Stella chuckled, pinching his cheek. “Jealous, are we? I already told you, with my current net worth, a divorce would be a financial disaster. Don’t worry. When the baby is a little older, I’ll tell him you’re his real father. Our child will still call you ‘Daddy’.” For the first time, I understood that being disgusted with someone could make you physically sick. I stumbled to a nearby trash can and retched violently. I heard their footsteps approaching and frantically ducked behind the bin. I was the victim, the one who should be storming out and confronting them, but… I was paralyzed by fear. It felt as if stepping out from my hiding place would finalize my status as a pathetic, abandoned fool. I heard Julian’s dreamy voice. “I really hope it’s a girl. She’ll be gentle and strong, beautiful and poised, just like you. The thought of having two of you in my life makes me bubble with happiness.” Stella giggled. “You’re such a sweet talker. By the way, how are the moving arrangements coming along?” Julian’s tone turned serious. “Stella, I don’t want to move to another city. I want to stay here, with you and our baby.” “No,” Stella said firmly. “It’s too risky. You’ll be discovered sooner or later.” Her voice softened. “Besides, I’ll use ‘business trips’ as an excuse to come see you for half of every month. You won’t have to worry about not seeing me.” Julian pulled her into a fierce kiss. “That’s wonderful! Stella, I love you so much. Please don’t ever leave me.” “Of course not,” Stella said earnestly. “I love you too. I’m just sorry you have to make this sacrifice.” “It’s no sacrifice,” Julian replied. “Being your man is the greatest happiness of my life.” They walked away, laughing and chatting, and got into a car. I staggered to my feet, my vision blurred by tears. I couldn’t believe it. Stella had been lying to me all along. If I hadn’t come to the hospital for my own stomach issues, I never would have known. I would have continued to be her fool, dancing on her strings. I didn’t go home until late that night. Stella had called me dozens of times, but I ignored every call. The moment I walked through the door, she rushed to me, her eyes wide with worry. “Honey, where have you been? Do you have any idea how frantic I was?” “I was at the hospital,” I said. Her body went rigid. She stared at me, her voice cautious. “When did you go? Which hospital? Why… why didn’t you ask me to come with you?” “City General,” I answered. “My stomach was bothering me.” Stella visibly relaxed. They had been at the women’s and children’s hospital. “What’s wrong with your stomach?” she asked with renewed concern. “Nothing serious. Just some indigestion,” I lied. “Oh, good,” she said with a sweet smile. I looked at that smile, the smile I had loved for thirteen years, and after a long silence, I spoke. “You know, I’ve been thinking. Now isn’t the right time for us to have a baby. Maybe… we shouldn’t keep it.” Stella’s expression froze. Her face hardened, and she instinctively shielded her stomach with her hands. “Are you even human?” she demanded, her voice sharp with anger. “We’ve been together for thirteen years! I’ve wished for this child for so long! How can you just say we should get rid of it? How can you be so cruel? Are you… are you seeing someone else?” I stared at the face I had adored for over a decade, now twisted with rage, looking at me as if I were her mortal enemy. A bitter laugh escaped me. What was I even hoping for? That she would choose me over this child? This was the child of the man she truly loved. What did that make me? The pain was all-consuming. I had given her her last chance, and she had made her choice. It was time for this to end. But not yet. Now was not the time to show my hand. “Forget I said anything,” I said flatly. “I’m just talking nonsense. I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” I started to walk past her, but she grabbed me from behind, her arms tight around my waist. “Honey, what’s wrong?” she whispered. “Is it because you still haven’t forgiven me?” “No,” I lied again. “I’m just scared I won’t be a good father.” She let out a breath of relief, her smile returning. “Of course you will. You’ve been studying so hard. You’re going to be the best father in the world. This baby is so lucky to have you. I’m sure he can’t wait to meet you.” Her words were like acid in my ears. I nearly choked on my disgust. “Is that so?” I said through gritted teeth. “I’m looking forward to it, too.” I pushed her hands away and retreated to the bedroom, feigning exhaustion. Later that night, Stella called me for dinner, but I pretended to be fast asleep. She sat by the bed for a long time before quietly leaving. A few minutes later, I heard her phone ring, and then the sound of the front door closing. I immediately got up and followed her. I watched as Stella picked up Julian from the side of the road. They drove to our very first apartment—our marital home. My hands trembled on the steering wheel. The tightness in my chest, the nausea, it all came rushing back, more intense than ever. I couldn’t believe it. She was letting Julian live in our first home. I had bought that apartment by selling the old house my parents left me, supplemented by money I’d earned from endless all-nighters writing proposals. It was my wedding gift to her, the first home that was truly ours. It wasn’t big, and the neighborhood was average, but it was filled with meaning. Even after her business took off and we owned multiple properties, we never sold it. It wasn’t just a house, Stella had said. It was a testament to my pure, unwavering love for her. And now, she had turned it into a love nest for her and her lover, shamelessly trampling on the memory of the man who had given her everything. In that moment, my heart finally turned to ash. I sat in my car all night, a self-inflicted punishment for my own naivety. I needed to see it, to watch her settle into that home with another man, to witness them wrapped up in each other. Only then could I finally break free. The next morning, a refreshed and glowing Stella came downstairs, Julian at her side. As she turned to leave, he pulled her into a passionate, lingering kiss. The woman I knew was once so shy was now locking lips with another man in broad daylight, in full view of the neighbors, a look of pure bliss on her face. The sight of her wantonness made me sick. After the kiss, Julian knelt down to tie her shoelaces while she pulled out her phone. My own phone buzzed. It was a text from her: “Emergency at the office, a big contract has issues. I was up all night. Probably won’t be home until this evening. Take care of yourself and eat on time. Love, your wife.” The wave of nausea returned. I fought it down, but a dry heave escaped my lips, followed by a searing pain in my stomach. I doubled over, trembling, a dark premonition washing over me. Stella drove off. Julian, humming a cheerful tune, went back upstairs. I waited until the sharpest cramps subsided before getting out of the car. I knocked on the door. Julian opened it with a smile, murmuring, “Did you forget something again, my…” His voice trailed off as he saw me. The smile on his face curdled into a malicious sneer. I had expected fear, or at least guilt. Instead, he looked me up and down with open contempt. “Well, well, look what we have here,” he drawled. “If it isn’t my girlfriend’s pathetic loser of a husband. The one she finds tasteless but too much trouble to throw away.” “Since you’re here, why don’t you come in and have a look?” He stepped aside, gesturing me in with the air of a homeowner welcoming an unwanted guest. It was as if I were the shameful secret, the one who didn’t belong. My chest heaved, but my heart felt dead. Numbly, I walked into what I had once considered the sanctuary of our love, and saw a home built for two. His and hers slippers by the door, matching pajamas on the couch, even toothbrushes that fit together to form a heart. Julian didn’t follow me. He didn’t need to. He simply lounged on the sofa, lit a cigarette, and said lazily, “You know, I should thank you. I used to have to work. Now, Stella’s so worried you’ll find out about me that she’s set me up in this ‘golden cage,’ paying for everything. All I have to do is keep her happy, and the money rolls in. Life is good.” I glared at him, my fists clenched. He met my gaze with a defiant smirk. “Don’t look at me like that. What are you going to do? Run crying to her? Let me tell you something. Even if you did, she wouldn’t be scared. The moment you chose to forgive her last time, she knew you could never leave her. Even with her cheating, even with her carrying my child, you’ll swallow it all. Because at your age, where else are you going to find a wife who makes as much money as she does? A rich woman like her wouldn’t look twice at a washed-up old man like you.” Washed-up old man? I was thirty. How was I a washed-up old man? He ignored my fury. “I know you look down on me,” he continued, “but you and I, we’re the same.” The same? I felt like I was choking on blood. I wanted to leap across the room and beat him to a pulp. We met when we were just kids. I worked myself to the bone to fund her dream of starting a business. Yes, she built it from the ground up, but how many bottles of liquor did I have to drink, how many deals did I have to close to get her that seed money? How dare he say we were the same? But his confidence was absolute. So absolute that I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Stella herself had fed him these ideas. Maybe I had been wrong from the very beginning. I forgave Stella because I loved her. But in her eyes, I forgave her because I was dependent on her. This man, this thirteen-year relationship, had long ago been corrupted by her rising social status, turning into a toxic swamp. Foul-smelling and deadly. I walked past him, my shoes clicking on the floor, and stopped dead in the living room. On the wall hung a massive wedding photograph. In it, Stella wore a gown encrusted with diamonds, leaning demurely against Julian. Behind them stretched the sparkling Aegean Sea. It screamed luxury and opulence. I thought my heart was already dead, but seeing that photo sent a fresh spasm of agony through me. It felt as if a hand were squeezing my throat, the lack of air making my head spin. Our wedding photo used to hang in that spot. Unlike theirs, ours was far from lavish. We were broke, saving every penny for her startup, so we couldn’t even afford the cheapest photography package. We just found a random beach, wore simple white clothes, and used a single camera and a veil. That was our wedding photo. I forced myself to calm down, took out my phone, and with a shaking hand, snapped a picture of their portrait. In that instant, something inside me clicked into place. Rotten things belong in the trash. Stella and Julian had been living together for a long time. They were, for all intents and purposes, in a common-law marriage. I would take this evidence to a lawyer and make sure this disgusting pair got nothing. Seeing me take the picture, Julian finally panicked. He lunged at me, trying to snatch my phone. I dodged, but he kicked me, hard. He was right about one thing—he was stronger than me, especially when my stomach was cramping in agony. I fell backwards, my head cracking against the corner of the coffee table. My vision exploded with stars, and warm blood streamed down my forehead, blurring my sight. I saw a flicker of raw hatred in Julian’s eyes. I could feel it. He wanted me dead. Suddenly, the smart lock beeped. I looked up to see the door swinging open. It was Stella, back from her “emergency.”

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I was born a chatterbox, and I pride myself on having a rock-solid moral compass. I’m willing to debate anyone, anytime, about anything. If you need advice or a hot take, I’m your girl. And by “anyone,” I don’t just mean the living. I mean the dead, too. I’ve been haunted by this brooding, clingy male ghost. Every night, he insists on being the big spoon. “Babe, why aren’t you reading those affirmations today?” he whispered. Affirmations? I wasn’t manifesting! My throat was just scratchy, okay? 1 I talk too much. It’s a condition. I love lecturing people. Even when I’m in an Uber, I can’t help but coach the road-raging driver. “Swearing is bad for your cortisol levels,” I told him. “And passing on the shoulder? That’s a traffic violation and morally ambiguous.” The driver, fueled by caffeine and fury, kicked me out halfway to my destination. Before he sped off, I leaned into the window. “You need to be rational. Acting on impulse is a trauma response. You’ll feel better when you accept that.” He flipped me off. Then, to prove a point, he floored it. It was an electric car, so the acceleration was instant. Too bad he ran a red light. He didn’t see the speed camera. I sighed. I forgot to warn him about that trap. I called my dad. No answer. I texted my mom. Ding. A notification from my bank app. $10,000 deposited. Mom’s text followed: [Sweetie, your father and I are finally having a peaceful spa day. Please, go buy something shiny and leave us alone.] Another $10,000 hit my account. Seriously? Why does everyone find me annoying? What did I do wrong? I’m just trying to make the world a more civilized place. I couldn’t call my friends. They’ve all muted my notifications. I was stranded on a desolate road. I had to rent one of those electric scooters and wobble my way to the new property my dad bought for me. By the time I arrived, the sun had set. I looked up at the house. No wonder it was cheap. It was a mid-century modern nightmare in the middle of nowhere. Who builds a mansion in a dead zone? 2 I walked inside. It was spotless. My dad had already sent a cleaning crew and movers to unpack my stuff. He really wanted me out of the main house so he could enjoy his empty nest. Rude. The porch light flickered. Probably faulty wiring. It flickered again. Definitely faulty wiring. Just as I stepped into the foyer, a gust of wind slammed the front door wide open. Leaves swirled in like a tornado. Creeeeeak. It was the classic horror movie entrance. I relaxed. At least it wasn’t a zombie. Ghosts I can handle. Ghosts are rational; they used to be people. I cleared my throat and used my “customer service” voice. “Hello, original inhabitant. I’m the new owner. I know you hate gentrification, but my dad dropped five million on this place. I have rights.” “You can haunt the guest house if you want.” The wind stopped. The lights stabilized. But I smelled a distinct scent of annoyance in the air. I doubled down. “Moving is stressful, even for the spectral. We can be roommates. But let’s set boundaries. You don’t pay property tax, so you don’t get master bedroom privileges.” “Also, scaring people is rude. Didn’t your mother teach you manners? Be a polite ghost.” The lights in the living room flared to life. I saw a silhouette. Even in the dim light, I could tell. This was a god-tier handsome man. I guess my luck was finally turning. I skipped into the living room. The ghost drifted to the corner where a grand piano sat. He sat down and began to play. My family is “new money,” so I don’t know Mozart from Beethoven, but it sounded expensive. Melancholy. Beautiful. I sat on the couch and entered “Hype Girl” mode. “Damn! That’s fire!” Compliments need to feel raw to be genuine. “Seriously, that was spiritual. My ears have been blessed. I feel purified. The emotion? The angst? Unmatched. No Grammy winner could touch you.” I rambled for three solid minutes. I got distracted by his profile. He was stunning. Pale skin, sharp jawline, messy hair, and a tear mole under his eye that made him look tragic and sexy. “This song is so handsome… I mean, this ghost is so catchy…” The music stopped abruptly. He turned. His eyes were dark and moody. High nose bridge. Thin lips. Prominent Adam’s apple. Holy… He was gorgeous. It’s a tragedy that we’re on different planes of existence. Wait. Ghost movie starring Demi Moore? It can work. He faded away before I could ask for his Instagram handle. 3 Delivery fees out here are criminal. Good thing I have my parents’ credit card. I ordered everything. Spicy wings, crawfish boil, truffle fries, a whole cake, and three boba teas. I was ripping into a bag of wings when the hot ghost reappeared. I offered him a wing. He looked at me with infinite sadness. “I’m not alive.” Right. My bad. I opened all the containers and set them out like a shrine. “Inhale the vibes,” I suggested. He actually tried. Then he started coughing. Or, the ghost equivalent of coughing. His face turned red. He choked out one word: “Spicy.” I hurriedly poked a straw into a milk tea and offered it to him. He looked like he’d been through a war. His lips were swollen and red. I stared. A six-foot-two ghost looking this disheveled? If I had a physical form that could touch him… well, let’s just say I’d be cancelled for my thoughts. He felt my gaze. “What are you thinking?” “Just admiring the aesthetic,” I lied effortlessly. “You’re giving Victorian Prince mixed with Calvin Klein model.” He blushed. Cute. After eating, I showered and flopped onto the king-sized bed in the master suite. In the middle of the night, I felt a dip in the mattress. I opened my eyes. The hot ghost was lying next to me. He was asleep. This was it. The universe was rewarding me for all my good deeds. I was living in a paranormal romance novel. Weirdly, on the bed, he looked solid. I poked his cheek. Soft. I got bolder. I touched his collarbone. Then his chest. Abs. I went lower. His hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. I froze. I quickly scanned my brain for “laws against molesting the undead.” “Sorry,” I squeaked. “The flesh is weak.” He stared at my left wrist for a long time. “You’re still wearing the bracelet.” “So, you admit you’re still my fiancée?” Huh? I looked at the vintage emerald bracelet on my wrist. I swiped this from my mom’s jewelry box before I left because it looked expensive. “This is an heirloom my family gives to the daughter-in-law,” he whispered, tracing the green stone. What? No. My mom has a shopping addiction; she probably bought this at an estate sale. This ghost is delusional. “You’ve got the wrong girl, Casper,” I said. He was silent for a moment, then vanished. I lay there, mourning the loss of the abs under my fingertips. Later that night, half-asleep, I felt strong arms wrap around me. I was too tired to fight it. It felt safe. I snuggled backward into the cold embrace and slept like a baby. 4 I woke up screaming. I was tangled in the ghost’s limbs. “Ahhh!” He woke up, sat up, and rubbed his eyes. Sunlight streamed through the window, hitting his face. He looked like a painting. Wait. Sunlight? Ghost? “Why aren’t you burning up?” I asked. “It’s noon.” He looked confused, his hair messy. “Why would I burn?” He stood up and walked directly into a sunbeam. Okay, so movies lied to me again. Not a vampire, not a traditional ghost. Maybe a day-walker?

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1 The day I woke up in the body of a mafia kingpin’s canary, I laid all my cards on the table. “If I help you find your true love,” I told him, “I can go back to my own world.” Damien listened, then threw his head back and roared with laughter. Just when I thought it was a lost cause, he yanked me into his arms. “Interesting,” he purred, his voice a low growl against my ear. “This one’s mine.” And just like that, I became his one and only canary. I tried to remind him every now and then, nudging him to look at other women, to search for his soulmate. But each attempt ended with me pinned to his bed, punished until I couldn’t walk for days. As he ripped another piece of my lingerie, he’d whisper teasingly, “Did your little system of yours tell you that once you’re my bird, you never fly away?” After a while, the thought of going home didn’t seem so urgent anymore. Until the day he brought her back—the sister of his sworn enemy. The girl, Heike, plunged a knife into his back, her eyes red with fury. “I’ll kill you one day,” she spat, “to avenge my brother.” He didn’t even flinch. Instead, he gritted his teeth through the pain and nodded. “I’ll be waiting.” In that moment, the mission progress bar, stuck at 0% for eight long years, quietly ticked up to 10. 2 That night, for the first time, Damien didn’t come to my room. I found him in the villa’s garden, a cigarette dangling from his lips, his brow furrowed in thought. His gaze kept drifting up to a single window on the second floor. I followed his line of sight. It was the room he had just arranged for Heike. It had to be her. She was the one. My mission was finally moving forward. I should have been thrilled. But for some reason, a bitter sting crept into my nose, my eyes burning. The night air was damp and heavy; I was probably just catching a cold. I quickly brewed a cup of hot ginger tea and brought it to him. He looked up, a faint smile touching his lips. He held out a credit card. My hand paused as I set down the mug. I didn’t take it. A flicker of confusion crossed Damien’s face. “What’s wrong? Isn’t this how it always is?” he asked, pushing the card closer. “Take it. Go buy a bag you like.” He was right. This was us. For eight years, I had played my part as the perfect canary. I took his money, never his love. Whenever I was especially attentive, it meant my funds were running low. And he never skimped on spoiling me. A cup of hot tea for a credit card. It was a fair trade. I forced a smile and took the card, my voice dripping with the practiced sweetness of a courtesan. “Thank you, Damien.” Ordinarily, this would be his cue to pull me into his arms and claim his prize right then and there. But he just nodded, his gaze already drifting back towards the house. The money was in my hand, yet for the first time, I felt a pang of disappointment. This was a bad sign. I couldn’t let myself get attached. As a task-runner, I was destined to leave. I spent the night drawing up a new plan. I had to speed things up between them. The next morning, I knocked on Heike’s door, all bright and bubbly. I grabbed her hand, insisting on taking her to the most expensive, Michelin-starred breakfast spot in the city. She violently shook me off. “You’re not afraid you’ll end up dead in a ditch, being a whore for a monster like that?” Her words struck me silent. You’ll see how good he is soon enough, I thought. Despite her reluctance, I dragged her to the restaurant. And there, she saw Damien, crouched in a back alley, gently feeding a stray cat. She saw him handing a warm parcel of food to a lonely old woman. “Hmph. Just for show,” she muttered, her tone as hard as ever. But I saw it—the flicker of softness in her eyes. 3 Heike was stubborn. She’d sworn to kill Damien, and she tried every single day, in a hundred different ways. When Damien went on a raid, she’d leak his location to a rival gang, getting him ambushed. When he had a negotiation, she’d tip off the cops, nearly getting him killed as a snitch. The most absurd was when Damien and I were trying to get a little adventurous with some roleplay in his car. She actually called the police and reported him for soliciting a prostitute. Furious, I confronted her. “Why did you have to drag me into it?” She looked at me with righteous indignation. “Have you no shame? How could you let yourself be with a monster like that!” In all my years with Damien, no one had ever dared to insult me like that. I raised my hand to strike her, but Damien caught my wrist. “She’s just a kid, Elara. Let it go.” “So I’m just supposed to let her call me a whore?!” To placate me, Damien replaced my supplementary card with a black card with no spending limit. No matter how many times she put his life in danger, he never got angry with her. It was as if he was enjoying this deadly game of cat and mouse. Slowly, a strange chemistry began to brew between them. It all came to a head on her 99th attempt on his life. As she crept into his room, ready to inject potassium chloride into his heart while he slept, he snapped awake, flipping her onto her back and pinning her beneath him. The spark that ignited between them was so intense a blind man could have felt it. I stood just outside the door, watching as Damien’s lips crashed down on hers. She didn’t resist. After a moment, she pushed him away, her face flushed a deep crimson. And then, they were kissing again, more fiercely this time. Shreds of clothing littered the floor. In that instant, my mission progress shot up by 40%. I knew Damien too well. I was the one who taught Heike all those assassination techniques. I was the one pulling the strings behind their little chase. Everything was going according to my plan. So why did my own heart ache with a dull, persistent throb? 4 From that day on, an unspoken understanding formed between them. In public, they were daggers drawn. In private, their stolen glances were electric. It culminated when Damien finally uncovered the truth about her brother Connor’s death. He presented her with proof, irrefutable evidence that he wasn’t the killer. He showed her that they could be together, openly, without the shadow of revenge hanging over them. The day the truth came out, Damien gave her a handmade ragdoll. “I had someone teach me how to make this,” he said softly. “Let him watch over you, in your brother’s place.” Heike clutched the doll and wept. Then she threw her arms around Damien and wept some more. The ice around her heart finally melted, revealing the vulnerable woman beneath. The scene was so perfect, so beautiful. But some devilish impulse made me walk over to them. I held out my hand to Damien. “I want one too.” Damien stared at me, confused. “Want what?” I pointed at the doll in Heike’s arms. “The one you made.” He let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous, Elara. You’ve only ever wanted jewelry and bags.” He pulled a thick wad of cash from his jacket and pressed it into my hand. “This is what you want.” I didn’t move, my hand still outstretched. For the first time in eight years, I let myself be difficult. I threw the cash on the floor. “No. I want the doll.” Damien’s expression turned to ice. “Know your place, Elara. Don’t ask for things that aren’t yours.” Heike glanced between us, looking uneasy. “Elara, this doll… it represents my brother. If you really like it, I can ask Damien to buy you another one, okay?” “‘Damien’?” I scoffed. “What happened to ‘that monster’?” A blush crept up Heike’s neck. “No, it’s not… Damien is…” “You don’t have to explain anything to her,” Damien cut in, pulling Heike behind him protectively. His voice was cold, distant. “She’s nothing to me.” I stared at him, my world tilting on its axis. He was right. What was I to him? I lowered my eyes, hiding the raw humiliation I felt. Seeing me retreat, he seemed to hesitate, letting out a soft sigh. “Alright, stop making a scene,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “I’ve already ordered you a new Hermès bag. Limited edition.” He took Heike’s hand and started to walk away. His touch was so gentle, nothing like the rough way he always grabbed me. “Are you coming to my room tonight?” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them. He paused for a heartbeat. Then, without another word, he led Heike away. I stood frozen, staring at the scattered bills on the floor. A bitter, hysterical laugh escaped my lips. Elara, you’re just a canary. What were you thinking, wishing for love? 5 I could be obedient, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t be defiant. I took the money Damien gave me and used it to hire twenty of the city’s finest male escorts. I was surrounded by a sea of chiseled abs and sculpted chests, my head swimming, when a man fully clothed strode into the room, sucking all the air out with him. “Who killed the mood? Get out!” I slurred. “Buzzkill!” Before another word could leave my lips, Damien had scooped me up into his arms. “Elara,” he growled, a dangerous current running through his voice, “you’re getting bold.” The palpable threat radiating from him sent my escorts scrambling for the door. I drunkenly poked him in the nose, my words thick. “Mr. Kingpin, even canaries get to clock out.” I held up a finger. “I haven’t had a single day off in eight years. I am officially informing you… that I… am going… on strike!” He let me jab at his face, his expression unreadable. “Fine, fine. You can go on strike. But you still have to come home, don’t you?” “Home?” I cackled. “I don’t have a home! That’s a birdcage! A gilded cage for your little canary! Hahaha…” The laughter morphed into sobs. The sight of my tears always made Damien helpless. He awkwardly pulled me into a hug, gently stroking my hair. “Okay, don’t cry. Let’s go home.” Suddenly, I felt like a lost child, all my hurt and frustration pouring out. I buried my face in his chest and wailed, clinging to him for dear life. I don’t know how long I cried. When I finally lifted my head, I realized there was a third person in the room. Heike was standing there, silent and still, her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. I froze, then scrambled out of Damien’s arms. “You brought her with you?” I demanded, pointing at Heike. Damien nodded. “I couldn’t leave her at home alone. I was worried.” Heike wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and reached for my hand. “Elara, let’s go home.” This time, I was the one who snatched my hand away. I scrubbed the tears from my own face, erasing every trace of weakness and vulnerability. “You two go home. That’s your home.” I reached for another bottle on the table. “That’s enough! Stop drinking!” Damien tried to grab the bottle, but I held on tight. In the struggle, the bottle slipped from my grasp, sailing through the air. It shattered with a sickening crack. Right against Heike’s head. Glass and blood sprayed across the floor. I stood there, stunned. Damien went berserk. He swept Heike into his arms and bolted for the door. “Wait! I—” He turned back, and the indulgence I had always seen in his eyes was gone. In its place was an endless, chilling frost. His voice trembled with barely controlled rage. “If anything happens to Heike, I will never forgive you.”

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The tenth time I felt the icy glare of the school’s most popular guy, I saw the floating text: [The male lead time-traveled back ten years, only to find his wife is still someone else’s girlfriend. His world has collapsed.] [Crushing on her for years, finally winning her over, and now he has to start from scratch.] [Baby Chloe has a boyfriend right now; the male lead can only endure it.] [I have a feeling this old man in a young body won’t hold back like his nineteen-year-old self did.] Sure enough, the next second, my phone buzzed with an anonymous text: [Hello, can you break up with him?] [Or, do you mind having an extra boyfriend?] [I promise, I’ll hide properly until you break up.] 1 The elective class bell rang. As I was packing my books, the guy sitting behind me tapped my back with his pen. I turned around to see him looking down nervously. “Chloe, c-could you help me with this problem?” I nodded and took his calculus workbook to write down the solution. “Got it?” After explaining, I looked up at him. The guy seemed to snap out of a trance, his ears burning red as he nodded awkwardly. “I got it. Chloe, you’re really amazing.” I smiled politely. “You’re welcome. Ask me anytime.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt that icy stare again. Here we go again. I glanced diagonally ahead at Julian Thorne. Sharp brows, high nose, fair skin making his dark eyes look like deep pools. Right now, he was staring resentfully at the boy smiling at me. When our eyes met, his gaze flickered, revealing loneliness and sorrow. Like a puppy abandoned by its owner. This was the tenth time today. Since morning, whenever a boy spoke to me—whether it was a classmate asking for contact info or a senior from a club—he would appear with precision, watching silently from a corner. Then, when I noticed him, his eyelashes would tremble, pitiful and desolate. This was too abnormal. We had never interacted before. I only knew he was the campus heartthrob, cold in personality, top of the Computer Science department. I rarely stayed on campus except for classes and didn’t live in the dorms. I couldn’t figure out how I had offended him. Just as I was about to confront him, scrolling text appeared before my eyes: [A 29-year-old man will stare intensely at his wife, but 19-year-old Julian Thorne will only silently tell himself he has no right to be jealous.] [Hahaha, the desperate husband’s inner monologue: Every man approaching my wife has bad intentions!] [The male lead traveled back from 29 to 19. His wife is still someone else’s girlfriend. His world collapsed, and now guys keep talking to her. It’s annoying!] [A secret crush for years, finally got the wife, now reset. Who wouldn’t go crazy!] … 2 I blinked, making sure I wasn’t hallucinating. Julian Thorne had a crush on me? And he’s my future husband? This isn’t the 19-year-old Julian, but my husband Julian from the future? While I was processing this shock, more text appeared: [No choice, Baby Chloe is dating her childhood friend right now. Male lead can only endure.] [I feel like this old man won’t hold back like he did at nineteen.] … Dating? I remembered. Liam, that brat, dated the department beauty and got dumped. Later, she invited him to her birthday party. He offered a month’s allowance, begging me to pretend to be his girlfriend to save face. I didn’t need the money, but Liam was annoying. He begged every day. I couldn’t take it anymore and agreed. Did Julian see us that day? While I was silently cursing my troublemaker childhood friend, he messaged me: [Chloe, emergency!!!] Before I could type, the back door of the classroom slammed open. Liam, with his sharp and flashy features, panicked, grabbed my bag with one hand and dragged me out with the other. “Liam! You…” Bang! A chair slammed back, making a loud noise. It cut me off and stopped Liam and me in our tracks. Looking back. Julian stood against the light, jaw tight, looking at where Liam held my hand. His eyes revealed collapse, pain, and longing. Then his Adam’s apple bobbed, voice hoarse: “Sorry, I got up too fast. Didn’t scare you, did I?” Liam dragged the still-dazed me out, hurriedly replying: “No worries, bro. Understand the rush to leave.” The floating text went wild: [He really can’t hold it in now. Screw being a model student, screw moral baselines, screw taking it slow! I want my wife!] [Don’t! Don’t provoke this desperate husband anymore. He’s really going to snap!] [Chloe, don’t go! Chloe!] I recalled the scene just now. Why did it feel like I really made Julian into a desperate husband abandoned by his wife? 3 “Chloe, good Chloe, beautiful and kind goddess, you don’t have classes later, right?” “Come to the gathering later. Mia will be there with her boyfriend. Come with me, please.” Outside the school, Liam leaned against his flashy new sports car, putting his hands together in prayer. “Liam, you’re sick. I’m done acting! Playing this game with you is blocking my own romance!” Thinking of Julian, I glanced at Liam coolly and refused. Liam froze, looking at me excitedly: “Romance? You never cared about that. What? Found someone you like?” “None of your business. Only you can date, but I can’t?” I side-eyed him. “Tch, fine. I’ll find someone new tomorrow. I’m this handsome.” “But you, careful not to get scammed. Want me to graciously check him out for you?” “Also, when we go abroad after graduation, don’t beg me to take care of you in a foreign land.” Liam’s eyes were sharp, his tone sarcastic. I kicked the tire of his beloved car, smiling fakely: “Fix your lack of direction first. Who’s taking care of whom?” While speaking, the text appeared again: [Holy crap, is Baby Chloe fake dating? Acting?] [Hahaha, Julian’s world is collapsing even more. In the past life, he crushed on her through high school and college. Only when she returned from abroad and met at a banquet did he dare approach using business cooperation.] [This is the consequence of not speaking up. If only he had the courage to ask back then.] [Sigh, 19-year-old Julian had nothing. Chloe and Liam were childhood friends, matched in status.] [Looks like even after becoming a big boss, he still didn’t dare ask.] [Of course not. After all, the heroine proposed a marriage of alliance for mutual benefit. He always thought it was a business marriage, later silently transferring most assets to her name.] … Just as I was reading the scrolling text seriously. My phone vibrated. An anonymous message appeared: [Hello, can you break up with him?] I froze. Before I could react, another message came: [Or, do you mind having an extra boyfriend?] [I promise, I’ll hide properly until you break up.] My finger hovered over the screen. I typed three words: [Julian Thorne?] Just as I debated sending it, Liam suddenly leaned in: “Who is it? That crush of yours?” My hand slipped, and I hit send. My temple throbbed. I locked the phone and glared at Liam. “What? So precious about it.” Liam snorted, opening the car door coldly: “Drive you back?” “No need. Scarlett asked me to go shopping. Go by yourself.” Hearing Scarlett’s name, Liam got into the car cleanly, roaring away. 4 “Where’s that brat Liam? I’ve been back for days, and he hasn’t come to pay respects?” Scarlett flipped her thick ash-brown curls, annoyance on her glamorous face. I sat on the sofa, absentmindedly watching models display the season’s new arrivals. I explained to this childhood friend who grew up with Liam and me: “He said last time you came back, you used him as a practice model, scolding him while shooting. It traumatized him.” Scarlett’s lips curled coldly: “Don’t worry, I don’t care for him now.” “I passed a mechanic shop a few days ago and saw a prime specimen.” “I’ll ride you there later. I want him to practice on.” Prime specimen? Julian’s face flashed in my mind. I took out my phone, tapping the screen. No messages. I raised an eyebrow slightly. At night, having shopped enough, Miss Scarlett rode her new motorcycle and took me to that shop. The owner greeted us with shining eyes. Before he could speak, Scarlett pointed at a man not far away: “Let him do it.” The man looked up, weary and indifferent. But seeing me, he paused slightly. I looked at Julian in a black tank top, broad shoulders, narrow waist, arm muscles smooth and powerful, and smiled slightly. “How is he? Prime, right?” “Perfect proportions, golden ratio, photogenic as hell.” Scarlett’s eyes burned with artistic passion. “Yes, prime indeed.” I watched Julian walking closer and replied softly.

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