Category: English

It was during Truth or Dare at the alumni reunion, and the former campus queen was wasted. Someone asked her the most despicable thing she’d ever done. She pointed across the booth at me, giggling hysterically. “I used his phone to delete his poor little girlfriend’s desperate plea for help while he was in the shower—and then I texted back: Drop dead!” “You guys wouldn’t believe it, that pauper waited outside in the rain all night. It was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen…” Laughter erupted through the private room. Except for the man seated at the head of the table. The crystal wine glass in his hand shattered with a sickening crunch. Blood mixed with red wine streamed down his fingers. He stared at me, his eyes bloodshot, like he was seconds from murder. I calmly slid a napkin toward him. “Mr. Rhys, you should wipe up. It’s soiled.” Some things, once stained, can never be washed clean. 1 The Carlyle Club, Manhattan’s most exclusive private membership space, was entirely booked for the evening. The word was, a newly minted venture capital titan, worth nine figures, had returned from overseas and wanted to flaunt his success to his old college crowd. When the manager handed me the gold-embossed wine list, his eyes held a fleeting, unreadable pity. “Scout,” Mr. Davies said, his voice low. “It’s the V888 suite tonight… If you don’t want to go, I can assign someone else.” I adjusted my ill-fitting server uniform, offering him a faint smile. “It’s fine, Mr. Davies. That’s our highest-spending suite. The corkage fees alone will net me a decent bonus. I need the cash, you know.” He sighed, patted my shoulder, and walked away. I pushed open the door to the V888 suite, the heat wave hitting me instantly, thick with the scent of expensive perfume, Cuban cigars, and something else—the dizzying, nauseating smell of burning money. In the center of the plush leather sofa sat the man I hadn’t seen in seven years. He had changed completely. Gone was the memory of the fiercely proud, intensely stubborn boy in a faded hoodie and threadbare jeans. In his place sat a polished, cold-eyed business mogul, exuding the effortless authority of a true power player. He was leaning back, listening to someone next to him, a detached, almost bored smirk playing on his lips. And nestled against him was the woman who had stolen him from me all those years ago: Genevieve “Gen” Sinclair. Gen was draped in a custom white Chanel dress, her neck flashing with a diamond necklace that caught the ambient light like a beacon. She swirled the contents of her wine glass, radiating the smug arrogance of a proud swan. “Oh, Holden’s back in the States mainly for me, of course. He’s shifting his company headquarters because… well, we’re finally getting engaged.” A chorus of sycophantic praise immediately erupted. “The campus beauty and the brain—a match made in heaven!” “Holden, you’re on the cover of Forbes now. Gen, you lucked out!” “It’s the ultimate turnaround story. Unlike some people who traded up for cash and bailed—bet they’re regretting that decision now, huh?” The intentional barb hung in the air, and for a silent second, every eye in the room pivoted to me, where I stood in the corner, expertly uncorking a bottle. I felt nothing. Like a numb marionette, I sliced the foil with a corkscrew, twisted the worm, and slowly pulled the stopper. “Bordeaux, Left Bank. Optimal pour after twenty minutes of decanting.” I poured the breathing wine into the massive crystal goblet in front of Holden Rhys, my movements flawless, professional. Holden finally raised his head. His stare was a devastating cocktail: contempt, disgust, raw hatred, and a subtle flicker of something deeper—an arrogant indifference. He didn’t reach for the glass, allowing me to hold it suspended in the air. My wrist, fatigued from balancing the heavy serving tray, gave a tiny, involuntary tremor. “Scout Davis?” He finally spoke, his voice a low, gravelly baritone. “I heard you dropped out of NYU before graduation. What happened? Did your trust-fund boyfriend get bored and toss you out? Now you’re scraping by, serving drinks in places like this?” The room fell silent, the audience waiting for the spectacle. Gen theatrically covered her mouth, feigning shock as she looked at me. “Oh my God, it is Scout! How… how are you dressed like that?” “Honey, if you’re really hard up, just tell me. Even though you threw Holden over for money, we’re still old classmates. I’d be happy to arrange something for you—maybe a janitorial position at my father’s firm.” She deliberately lingered on the phrase: threw Holden over for money. The whispers of judgment started, a fine, biting spray. “Serves her right. Holden was so devoted back then.” “That’s karma. Look at the CEO he is now—billions. And her? Waiting tables.” “The tides turn, you know? Thirty years down the road…” I listened to the stinging comments with a blank expression, as if they were discussing a stranger. Seven years. I had built a fortress around my heart. I’d worked in the darkest corners of this city—washing dishes in scorching kitchens, moving inventory in freezing cold storage, being splashed with drinks by drunk patrons, and being screamed at by landlords calling me a beggar. Dignity. That broken thing had been pulverized into dust on that rainy night, seven years ago. “Mr. Rhys, your wine,” I repeated, my voice steady. Holden fixed his gaze on my eyes, clearly searching for a hint of remorse, shame, or even tears. He was disappointed. My eyes contained nothing but endless fatigue and a chilling, vacant numbness. My indifference seemed to infuriate him. He suddenly raised his hand and slammed it down, violently knocking the wine glass out of my grasp. “This vintage is too common,” Holden said, pulling a crisp linen napkin from his pocket to wipe his hand. His eyes were arctic. “Get me something else. A bottle with some real age. Something like that night, seven years ago.” He was humiliating me. Seven years ago, he was still a penniless college student who’d saved up for three months to buy a single bottle of cheap, corner-store red wine for my birthday. We drank it straight from the bottle on the cold grass of the campus quad, our faces flushed, promising to stay together forever. Now, he was using that same memory to remind me of the price of betrayal. Gen giggled, playing along. “Oh, Holden, don’t be so hard on her. That wine costs a fortune—she couldn’t pay for the broken glass if she sold everything she owns. Just apologize to Mr. Rhys, Scout, wipe up the mess, and we’ll let it go.” I knelt, retrieved a cloth, and began to carefully blot the scarlet stain from the expensive Persian rug. A tiny shard of crystal glass embedded itself in my fingertip, a sharp, familiar stab of pain. I didn’t flinch. I merely calculated in my head: That’s my commission gone. Plus the cost of the glass. Tonight’s work—maybe half a month’s wages—is now a loss. This was my life now. No romance, no poetry, only the brutal arithmetic of bills I couldn’t pay and debts I couldn’t outrun. As for love? That was a luxury only the rich could afford. “My apologies, Mr. Rhys.” I finished cleaning the last trace of wine, stood up, and maintained my humble, subservient posture. “I will inform the manager to send up the finest bottle we have.” Holden looked at the small bead of blood welling up on my finger. His pupil constricted momentarily, but the mask of icy indifference returned instantly. “Get out.” 2. I didn’t get out. Because Mr. Davies told me the client in V888 had specifically requested my service for the duration of the night. If I left, I’d lose the mandatory two-thousand-dollar tip and potentially have my base pay docked. I desperately needed the money. My mother’s dialysis next month hadn’t been covered yet, and the landlord was already texting about next quarter’s rent. So, I went to the restroom to quickly bandage the cut, and then I returned to that suffocating, velvet-lined suite. When I pushed the door open again, the atmosphere had shifted. Three rounds of drinks in, the impeccably tailored elite had started to drop their pretenses, revealing the ugly core of humanity beneath. They were playing Truth or Dare. It was a trite, yet endlessly effective game—especially fueled by alcohol—the perfect tool to rip the veneer off human decency. The marble table was littered with empty bottles: Louis XIII, Rémy Martin, Ace of Spades… The combined cost of those bottles was enough for me to buy a closet-sized studio apartment in the outer boroughs. Gen was clearly drunk. Her cheeks were flushed, and she was practically draped over Holden, her eyes hazy, almost feverish with triumph. She was the star of the night, the biggest winner. The prospect of marrying Holden and becoming the envied Mrs. Rhys had made her reckless, almost giddy with hubris. “Alright, alright! Next round!” The class president, an awkward man named Sam, slurred his words. “Who gets it this time?” The empty magnum bottle spun quickly across the slick marble table, making a grating, unpleasant sound. Everyone held their breath, their eyes glued to the bottle’s neck. Slowly, it stopped. The bottle pointed directly at Gen. “Ooh—! Jackpot for the campus queen!” “Truth or Dare?” Gen let out a throaty laugh, waving a dismissive hand. “Truth! This princess has nothing to hide!” Sam rubbed his hands together with a malicious grin, his eyes bouncing between me and Gen. He was clearly looking to stir up trouble. “Fine, let’s go with a juicy one. Gen, what is the most despicable, most heartless thing you’ve ever done in your entire life?” The question dropped into the room like a stone. They were all adults; who didn’t have a few dirty secrets? But this was a game, and the point was the shock value. Holden, who had been resting his eyes, merely lifted an eyelid at the question, offering no objection. In his mind, Gen was merely spoiled and occasionally petty, but certainly not capable of true malice. Gen let out a small burp, her gaze suddenly slicing through the crowd to land on me, where I was standing in the corner pouring water for a guest. A vile, triumphant smile curled her lips. The alcohol had dulled her judgment and amplified the jealousy and spite buried deep in her heart. “The most despicable thing, you ask…” Gen stumbled to her feet, her finger aimed directly at me. “It was seven years ago, the night of that huge thunderstorm. I went to Holden’s shabby little rental…” At the mention of “seven years ago,” my hand convulsed, and the hot water in the carafe nearly sloshed over the rim. Holden’s body, too, stiffened almost imperceptibly. Gen burst into hysterical laughter, as if recounting the most hilarious anecdote. “Holden was in the shower. His cheap phone was on the table. And guess what? This pauper, Scout, texts him.” “And guess what she said? Hahahaha… She wrote: ‘Holden, please save my dad. I beg you. I only need fifty thousand. I’ll be your servant forever.’ ” “Tsk, tsk, tsk. So pathetic, so utterly desperate.” “I thought, Holden is so brilliant, he can’t be saddled with this kind of trash! He belongs with me, in the big leagues, not dragged down into the mud by some bottom-feeder!” “So…” She paused for dramatic effect, her eyes gleaming with a manic spark. “I did Holden a favor.” “I deleted her frantic text, and then I texted back from his phone. Just two words: ‘Drop dead.’” “Hahahahaha! You should have seen it! The pauper actually waited outside in the rain all night! I watched her from the window, soaked like a drowned rat, watching her sink to her knees in despair. It was the best laugh I’ve ever had!” “Seriously, didn’t I do a great thing? If I hadn’t done that, how could Holden have shed that anchor? How could he have become the man he is today? Holden, you should be thanking me…” Gen’s voice was cut off by the sharp sound of shattering glass. Holden had crushed his wine glass with his bare hand. The fragments were deeply embedded in his palm. Blood mixed with red wine, dripping onto the pristine white tablecloth, a horrifying tableau. But he seemed completely oblivious to the pain. He was staring intensely at Gen, his normally cold eyes now streaked with crimson veins. “What did you say?” Gen, still basking in her own cruelty, hadn’t registered the danger. “I said I helped you get rid of that poor—” “Shut up!” Holden violently overturned the mahogany coffee table in front of him. The deafening crash made Gen scream, the shock sobering her instantly. She looked up in terror at the man towering over her, who looked like an enraged lion. “Ho—Holden, what is it? I was just kidding…” “Kidding?” Holden stumbled to his feet, closing the distance between them. “Are you saying… that seven years ago, she didn’t run off with Dean Kincaid, the rich guy? She didn’t text me saying she was leaving because I was poor?” “Are you saying… she was in a hospital? She was begging me for help?” His voice grew louder, culminating in a raw, animalistic roar. Gen was so terrified by his presence that she sank back onto the sofa. Holden didn’t even spare her another glance. He spun around, his attention locked on me in the corner. “Scout…” He choked out my name, a sound like a sob tearing from his throat. “Is she telling the truth?” “That night… were you waiting for me?” The entire room was paralyzed, everyone too terrified to even breathe. I set the water carafe down. I looked at the truth that had taken seven years to surface, and my heart felt frighteningly empty. Too late. It was truly, devastatingly too late. I pulled a tissue from my uniform pocket, walked over, and held it out to him. “Mr. Rhys, wipe your hand. It’s bleeding everywhere. It’s dirty.” Holden ignored the tissue. He lunged and grabbed my wrist. “Answer me, Scout! Tell me this isn’t real!” I looked into his bloodshot eyes and smiled, gently. “And what if it is? Holden Rhys.”

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After remarrying Eason Dassin, I became the perfect wife. The kind who never checked his phone, who never asked where he’d been. At our college reunion, when someone asked him about his biggest regret, Eason’s eyes flickered instinctively to Sophie Lane. A drunk classmate, inhibitions gone, slurred loudly, “Are you kidding? We all know Eason’s biggest regret is that he never got to marry the campus queen!” “He even divorced his first wife for her,” another chimed in, “but some people are like glue. They just won’t let go and practically begged him to take them back.” The atmosphere turned instantly awkward. Eason, expecting me to fly into a rage like I used to, started to formulate an explanation. But I just smiled and smoothed things over for him. “It’s alright,” I said. “Everyone has regrets.” I have one, too. My biggest regret is that the first time we divorced, I was so blinded by rage that I walked away with nothing. In the new divorce agreement I had drafted, I would not be the one leaving with empty hands. 1 “Hillary, what’s your biggest regret?” As we waited for our ride-share, Eason leaned against the car and asked the question out of nowhere. I was scrolling through my phone, and I didn’t even look up. “I forgot.” “You forgot?” He clearly didn’t believe me. I didn’t respond, and the silence between us thickened. After a long moment, he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I just feel like… since we got back together, you’ve been different. Strange.” “You’re being too sensitive.” Hearing his own words thrown back at him left Eason speechless. A flicker of anger ignited in his eyes. “Before we remarried, I promised you, over and over, that I would never let Sophie interfere in our lives again. I promised to keep my distance.” “Even tonight, at the reunion, we came and left separately. What more do you want from me?” His patience had always been thin; this was a long speech for him. “How many times do I have to tell you? If it wasn’t for Sophie’s father, I never would have made it out of that little coastal town.” I locked my phone and looked at him, my voice calm against his rising tide of frustration. “You don’t have to explain. I know.” I had heard the same speech a thousand times. It was why I tolerated him pulling strings to get Sophie a position at his hospital right after graduation, keeping her close by his side. It was why I put up with her constant presence in our lives, why there was always a third chair at our table, even on our wedding anniversary. It was why I accepted that they shared every mundane detail of their days, while my own messages to him were met with curt, one-word replies. But the day I came home early from a business trip and found them tangled together, naked in our bed… that was the day I stopped tolerating anything. I filed for divorce, willing to walk away with nothing just to be free of him. I never expected that, shortly after, my mother would be diagnosed with a malignant tumor that required immediate surgery. A complex, risky surgery that only one person could perform. Eason Dassin. So, I went to him. I begged him. More chilling than my own emotional relapse was his response. “Hillary, you know how busy I’ve been since my promotion to department head.” “However,” he added, a smug little smile playing on his lips, “if the patient were my mother-in-law, I would certainly make the time to operate myself.” He leaned in. “So… have you learned your lesson?” I stared at him, and under his triumphant gaze, I nodded. We got remarried. But a shattered mirror can’t be made whole again. We shared a bed, but we were strangers. Just like tonight. “Eason! I knew you hadn’t left! I told you he’d never leave Sophie all alone!” Sophie’s college roommate waved from across the parking lot, half-supporting a stumbling Sophie as they approached. “She’s too beautiful to go home by herself. I was worried. You always used to be the one to drive her, right?” She shot me a pointed, mocking glance. “You, on the other hand… you’re not exactly turning heads, are you, Hillary? You’ll be fine getting home on your own.” Eason looked at the drunk, clinging Sophie, then at me. He was torn. It turned out that no matter how many times I saw it, his hesitation still burned like a brand on my heart. But unlike before, I didn’t scream or cry. I just held up my phone, my face a blank mask. “My car is here. I’m leaving.” As my driver pulled up, Eason helped Sophie into the back of his car. He rolled down the window and looked up at me. “Go home and wait for me,” he said. “I’m performing your mother’s final surgery tomorrow. We need to go over the details tonight.” Unsurprisingly, Eason never came home. But this time, I didn’t wait up for him like a fool. If a breakup is a kind of withdrawal, then I had been forced through the agony of it twice. The first time, I had a complete breakdown. I deleted his number, threw out everything that reminded me of him. But after years together, his ghost was everywhere. The love letters he’d written were still tucked inside the books he gave me, every word a promise. The scarf he spent a month knitting, his fingers raw and pricked from the needles, his goofy smile as he urged me to try it on. He knew I loved stargazing, so he spent two months’ worth of his part-time salary on a telescope, and proposed to me under a once-in-a-century meteor shower. “Hillary,” he had said, “I have no parents, no one. I want to be yours. I want you to possess me, to control me.” But later, he had said, “I see Sophie as the only family I have in this world. Hillary, why do you have to be so possessive?” Family? What kind of family sleeps together naked in the same bed? I’d heard the rumors about them back in school. They said Eason was a genius, a top scholar, and that the university had only accepted Sophie as a favor to him. They came from the same small fishing town, childhood friends. The connection was too close for comfort. “Her father adopted me,” he had explained. “I would have died without him. It’s a debt I have to repay. But Hillary, trust me. In my heart, she will only ever be a sister to me.” I believed him. And it cost me five years of my life. To be honest, the first time I saw him after the divorce, my heart still hammered against my ribs. His phone’s lock screen was still a photo of us together. It was as if nothing had changed. This remarriage was my second, self-prescribed round of withdrawal. I couldn’t forgive him, couldn’t pretend it never happened. But I also couldn’t just walk away, couldn’t make a clean break. Not yet. So, I decided to use a dull knife. Slow, painful, but thorough. And after six months, I was finally numb. Once my mother’s final surgery was over, I could divorce him again, this time without any baggage. I had the papers drawn up already. A seventy-thirty split of our assets, in my favor. He was the one who broke our vows. It was only fair that he pay the price. But the next day, Eason vanished. The surgeon who was forced to take his place was sweating bullets. “We can’t reach Dr. Dassin! You’re his wife, you don’t know where he is?” His voice was grim. “I have less than a ten percent chance of success with this procedure. You… you need to prepare yourself.” Eason’s phone went straight to voicemail. I called over a hundred times, my fingers moving mechanically, dialing the same number again and again until I was numb. And then, finally, someone picked up. “Eason, where the hell are—” “Oh, is this Hillary? Eason had to take me back to my hometown last minute. He’s in the shower right now.” My world went silent. My brain was pure static. The phone slipped from my hand, the screen shattering on the marble floor. In that split second, through the crackling speaker, I thought I heard Eason’s voice. “Who was that? Was it Hillary?” “No, darling,” Sophie cooed. “Just a spam call.” For the next three hours, I knelt outside the operating room, praying, begging for my mother’s life. When the light above the door finally went out, a doctor came out holding a single sheet of paper. The death certificate. I handled the funeral by myself. For seven days, I moved through a fog. On the eighth day, Eason finally came back. “I’m sorry, I—” Before he could finish, I swung my hand and slapped him across the face, hard. “You bastard, Eason!” I screamed, my voice raw. “You killed my mother!” The force of the blow snapped his head to the side. But to my surprise, he didn’t get angry. He just patiently explained, “Your mother’s prognosis wasn’t good. Even if the surgery had been a success, she would have suffered through endless rounds of chemotherapy.” “Sophie’s father was suddenly on his deathbed. If I hadn’t gone with her, she might not have seen him one last time.” I was shaking with so much rage I could barely form a sentence. I never imagined the cruelty could go deeper. “You grew up without a father,” he said calmly. “It’s normal that you wouldn’t understand that kind of bond.” I stared at him in disbelief, unable to connect the man in front of me with the loving person I once knew. He knew. He knew my father had died in his mistress’s bed when I was eight years old. It was the deepest wound of my life. He had held me then, promising to protect me forever. In that moment, something inside me snapped. I grabbed anything I could reach and hurled it at him, screaming for him to die. He just watched me, his eyes cold and distant. When I was done, he said, “You know, Hillary, I prefer you like this.” “Stop pretending,” he added, turning to leave. “It’s pointless.” After he was gone, I collapsed onto the floor amidst the wreckage and sobbed until I had nothing left. I started to hate him. I hated him for taking the very knife I had given him and plunging it into my heart without a second thought. Then my phone buzzed. It was a text from Sophie. [Hey, Hillary. Heard about your mom. So sorry for your loss~] [It’s all Eason’s fault, really. I told him my dad just had a little cold, but he insisted on dropping everything to come home with me.] [But then again… you’re the one who just had to have him back, right? If there’s anyone to blame, it’s yourself.] The messages sent me over the edge. I grabbed my phone and stormed into the hospital. I reported Eason and Sophie for their unprofessional conduct. I reported Eason for gross negligence, for abandoning a patient for personal reasons, resulting in my mother’s death. But the hospital administration didn’t launch an investigation. They just “invited” me into an office. They told me it was a “private matter” and they couldn’t get involved. Their words were a veiled threat: Eason was a star surgeon, an asset they had paid a fortune to recruit. I should just drop it. Eason arrived while I was arguing with the hospital director. “How is this not his fault? My mother would still be alive if it weren’t for him!” Eason said only one thing. “I apologize. My wife has been under a great deal of stress lately. Her mental state is… unstable.” The looks of sympathy in the room instantly curdled into something else. They took a subconscious step back, creating a physical distance between us. Soon, it was just Eason and me in the small office. “Hillary. Apologize.” I had cried so much my eyes were swollen nearly shut, but I could feel the weight of his condescending stare. “You shouldn’t have made a scene here. What if this gets out? It could ruin Sophie’s reputation.” “So, I want you to apologize to her.” I was done talking. I turned and reached for the door. I would go to the media, to the press. I would expose their dirty secret. Then I heard him sigh softly behind me. “Lili,” he said, using my old nickname. “You’re not leaving me any choice.” As the youngest department head in the hospital’s history, a celebrated prodigy in the medical field, it had taken him seven years to climb to his position. It only took him seven days to have me committed to a psychiatric hospital. I lost count of the times I insisted I wasn’t sick, only to be met with higher doses of tranquilizers and tighter restraints. So I stopped fighting. I became calm. I waited for my chance. And finally, I got it. I escaped. I had no money, and I was still wearing the hospital’s drab patient gown. People on the street avoided me like the plague. I finally found a kind girl in a nearby mall and begged to borrow her phone. But as I held it, I hesitated. Who could I call? The police? In my current state, they would most likely contact my sole legal guardian: Eason. That would only lead to being locked up again.

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1 On my way to the airport, a Porsche tried to cut me off. I didn’t let him. In response, he gunned it, swerved in front of me, and started brake-checking me. I was in a hurry and had no time for road rage, so I decided to let it go. I never imagined my patience would only make him bolder. He brake-checked me five times in less than a hundred yards. That was it. I called the police. But as I was reading his license plate to the dispatcher, a surge of adrenaline hit me, and I stomped on the gas. Because as I looked closer at the plate, I realized this Porsche was the exact birthday present my wife had asked me for last week. … CRUNCH! My Volkswagen Phaeton slammed squarely into the Porsche’s rear end. A man in sunglasses with a cigarette dangling from his lips jumped out of the Porsche. He stormed over to my car and kicked my driver-side door. “You broke-ass punk! Did you see the logo? It’s a P-O-R-S-C-H-E!” “You dare hit a Porsche in that piece of junk VW? You got a death wish or something?” Seeing a man climb out of the driver’s seat sent a cold dread through me. Things were exactly as bad as I had feared. I rolled down my window and studied him, searching his every word and gesture for clues. “Three million!” he yelled, jabbing three fingers at me through the window. “Not a penny less, or I’ll make you wish you were never born!” I fought the urge to get out and slap him silly. Instead, I decided to wait and see. I needed to know what his relationship with my wife was. A collision between two luxury cars in a busy downtown street quickly drew a crowd of onlookers. “This is gonna be good. That Porsche is worth millions. The guy in the VW is screwed.” “That’s what you get for being impulsive. Should’ve just let it go. Now he’s going to lose everything.” Fueled by the crowd’s comments, the man in sunglasses grew even more arrogant. He kicked my door again, his eyes filled with menace. “Driving a crappy VW, you should know to get out of the way of a Porsche! Who the hell do you think you are?” “Scared now, are you? Hiding in your car like a coward? Too late!” “This is the new car my wife bought me! Three million dollars! Pay up now, or I’ll have you thrown in jail!” His wife? So there it was. That damned woman. Let’s see how you get out of this one. After a moment’s thought, I slowly pushed my door open and stared at his arrogant, boyish face. “If anyone’s paying, it’s you,” I said coolly. “I was driving straight. You were changing lanes illegally and brake-checking me. You’re 100% at fault.” “And as for jail,” I added, “those two kicks to my door count as willful destruction of property. That alone is enough to get you locked up.” “I don’t give a damn about the law, so don’t you dare quote it to me! All I know is I’m in a Porsche, and you’re supposed to get out of my way!” he sneered. “Jail? The jail that can hold Kyle Chen hasn’t been built yet!” Seeing his clueless arrogance, I couldn’t help but let out a cold laugh. Some of the onlookers, seeing his expensive car and hearing his domineering talk, assumed he was some rich young master and tried to curry favor. “That VW driver has some nerve. He hits someone’s car and demands they pay him? Then threatens to send the guy to jail for kicking his door? He must think the kid’s an easy target.” “Don’t be scared, son. Take my number. I can be a witness for you if you need it!” “Yeah, bro, I’ve studied some law. Property damage is only a crime if it’s over five thousand dollars. That kick probably just chipped some paint. No way a paint chip on that old VW is worth five grand.” Kyle, already full of himself, puffed up even more at their encouragement. He slammed his hand on the hood of my car. “Today, you’re not just paying for my car, you’re getting on your knees and apologizing. Otherwise, you’re not walking away from this!” I scoffed and pointed to the approaching traffic police. “Why don’t you ask them who should be paying? As for getting on your knees, you’d better start looking for a good spot for yourself.” “I’ll f—” Enraged, Kyle lunged at me. I sent him sprawling with a single kick. He scrambled up, ready to come at me again, but the police officers intervened. “Stop it, or you’re both coming down to the station!” “Officer! This broke-ass loser hit my car and then assaulted me! Arrest him!” Kyle whined, clutching his side. The officer ignored his wild accusations and asked for our dashcam footage. I pulled up the video on my phone and showed it to him. After watching it, the officer shot Kyle a cold look. “It’s clearly your fault. How do you have the audacity to demand compensation?” “You’d better resolve the damages with the other driver immediately,” the officer warned. “Otherwise, we’ll have to take you in for reckless driving.” “Are you cops blind? Can’t you see I’m driving a Porsche? And my wife is a very important person. You can’t afford to offend us—” “I don’t care what car you drive or whose husband you are. We enforce the law impartially. I’m warning you, if you refuse to comply, you’re coming with us.” Kyle grumbled but, seeing the officer’s stern expression, finally backed down and made a phone call. I glanced at the number. Of course. He was calling my wife, Isabella Reed. I couldn’t hear their conversation, but from the simpering smile on his face and his intimate tone, I knew they were doing more than just solving a problem; they were flirting. After the call, Kyle’s arrogance returned. He pointed at his car and sneered, “So what if I have to pay? Big deal!” “My Porsche is insured for three million. That’s more than enough to cover your piece-of-junk VW. I won’t short you a single penny, you broke-ass punk!” I laughed to myself. His insurance wouldn’t even cover my limited-edition Phaeton, let alone the fact that insurance companies don’t pay out for claims caused by the driver’s own malicious acts. Today, I was going to expose both of them for the frauds they were. Soon, the insurance adjuster arrived. He clearly knew his cars. One look at my Phaeton and his face went pale. But when he saw the accident report in Kyle’s hand, he breathed a sigh of relief. “Sir,” he said calmly, “this accident was caused by your intentional and malicious driving. It is not covered by our policy. Please negotiate a settlement directly with the other party. Thank you.” He turned and walked away, ignoring Kyle’s sputtering protests. “Well?” I said, my voice flat. “Are you going to pay up, or are you going to jail?” The tide in the crowd had turned. Hearing the truth, many of them started to rebuke him. “You think driving a Porsche makes you king of the road? You can just endanger people because they didn’t get out of your way?” “And then you expect your insurance to pay for your own stupidity? What a joke.” His attempt to flex had backfired spectacularly. The mockery from the crowd sent him into a rage. He stormed to his car, pulled out a baseball bat, and started smashing my Phaeton to pieces, screaming curses as he swung. “You want me to pay? Fine! I’ll smash your car to bits right in front of you, and then I’ll just buy you a new one!” He was completely unhinged. This was perfect. I simply stood to the side and watched the show. After venting his fury, he threw a stack of cash onto the hood of my car—what was left of it. “Here’s fifty grand, you scumbag. More than enough to buy this wreck. The rest is a charity donation. Take it and get the hell out of my sight!” I laughed. “Fifty grand wouldn’t even cover one of my headlights. You’d better start figuring out how to get some real money, or you’re going to rot in a cell.” He sneered. “Are you crazy? You see I have money and now you’re trying to extort me? Everyone knows this piece-of-shit VW is worth thirty grand, tops. I’m giving you fifty and you’re still running your mouth? That’s extortion, and that’s a crime. Don’t think I don’t know the law.” Some of the onlookers chimed in. “Hey buddy, just take the money. Fifty grand for a thirty-grand car is a good deal. Don’t get greedy.” Just then, the appraiser from the VW dealership arrived. “Who said this car is only worth thirty thousand?” he announced. “This is a ten-million-dollar, top-of-the-line luxury vehicle. A single headlight costs over half a million.” Hearing this, Kyle’s face turned white, but he tried to maintain his arrogant facade. The crowd gasped. “Whoa, so this guy is the real millionaire. So low-key!” “The truly wealthy don’t need to show off. Not like some kid who thinks a Porsche makes him a king.” “Yeah, he probably rented that car anyway. Now he’s smashed a ten-million-dollar vehicle. He’s finished.” The appraiser finished his assessment and reported to me. “Mr. Blackwood, the damage is catastrophic. The repair costs would be close to the price of a new vehicle. It’s not worth fixing.” I nodded and turned to Kyle. “Pay up. Ten million. Every last cent.” His bravado faltered, but he still tried to bluff. “Just because you say it’s worth ten million? You hired some actor to back you up so you can scam me? This is fraud! I’ll sue you!” To crush his last bit of hope, I pulled out the vehicle purchase receipt and shoved it in his face. “Does this look like fraud to you?” He glanced at the receipt, his expression flickering for a second before his arrogance returned. He pulled a black credit card from his pocket and waved it in my face. “So what if it’s ten million? I’ve got thirty million on this card. I’ll pay you.” Someone in the crowd gasped. “Wow, that’s a Centurion Black Card! You need to be a billionaire to even qualify for one of those. This kid really is loaded.” The praise went to his head. He flaunted the card, beaming. He had no idea it was a supplementary card I had given to my wife. All I had to do was make one call, and it would be a useless piece of plastic. After calling the bank, I looked at him coldly. “Don’t wave that thing around like you own the world. I bet you can’t even get ten thousand out of that card.” He flew into a rage. “Give me your account number! I’ll transfer the money right now! And when I do, I’m going to break your face!” I gave him the account details. He tried to make the transfer. Again and again, the transaction was declined. Card disabled. The crowd started jeering. “Another fake rich kid. A black card that can’t even handle ten grand.” “Why pretend? If you can’t afford it, just say so.” Sweat beaded on his forehead. He ducked behind his car to make another call. A moment later, my phone rang. It was Isabella. “Damian, what happened to my card? Why is it blocked? Call the bank and reactivate it. And have them raise the limit to a hundred million. I need it urgently.” “Why do you suddenly need so much money?” I asked, my voice flat. “I have my reasons. Don’t ask so many questions, just do it!” I clenched my jaw and hung up. I had been far too lenient with her. For ten years, I had been away on… business of a sensitive nature, leaving her to manage Apex Corporation. I never imagined she would be keeping a boy toy on the side with my money. She thought that just because I let her guard the gate, the entire kingdom now belonged to her. She sent a flurry of texts, which I ignored. A few minutes later, Kyle strutted back over, holding up his phone to show a transfer confirmation for ten million dollars. “I told you, my wife is a billionaire! A measly ten million is nothing to her!” He shoved the phone in my face. “There. The money’s been sent. Now you can piss off!” I let out a cold laugh. “You’ve only paid for one car. What about the other one?” The entire crowd fell silent. Kyle looked like he was about to explode. “Are you insane, or just addicted to scamming people? When did I hit two of your cars?” I pointed to the Porsche. “This car is mine too. It’s worth three million. Pay up.” Everyone was stunned. “Has this guy lost his mind?” “He must have hit his head in the crash. He doesn’t even know which car is his.” “You psycho!” Kyle screamed. “Are you ever going to stop?” Ignoring his tantrum, I pulled out the Porsche’s registration and threw it at him. “See for yourself. Is this car mine or not?” He snatched it, saw my photo, and froze in disbelief, which quickly morphed into pure rage. “This is impossible! My wife bought this for me for my birthday! This is your car? You must have faked this to extort me!” “Do I look like someone you can mess with? My wife is Isabella Reed, the head of Apex Corporation! She’s on her way here right now. Just you wait and see what she does to you!” At the mention of Apex Corporation, the crowd’s demeanor shifted again. “His wife is Isabella Reed? The ‘Iron Lady’ of Apex? No one in Sterling City dares to cross her.” “Hey man, you should just take the win and go. You might have some money, but Apex Corporation is on another level. You don’t want that kind of trouble.” Seeing my silence, Kyle thought he had intimidated me. “Scared now, are you?” he taunted. “Too late! When my wife gets here, she’ll crush your company. We’ll see how arrogant you are then!” I just smiled. “We’ll see.” Just then, a convoy of black cars pulled up. A regal, elegantly dressed woman stepped out of a Range Rover, flanked by several bodyguards. Kyle’s face lit up. “My wife is here! You’re dead!”

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My female colleague, Chloe, suddenly stared at my exposed calves and asked, “Maya, are you wearing brown pantyhose today?” I instantly understood. She was taking a dig at my dark complexion. I nodded indifferently. “Yeah, I am.” She let out an exaggerated gasp, loud enough for the whole office to hear. “Really? Wow! I bet someone else that those were your actual legs.” I ignored her and buried my head back into fixing my boss’s PowerPoint. By afternoon, half the office had found excuses to walk past my desk. They just wanted to see if I was actually wearing stockings or not. 01 Brenda was the first. She pretended to log office supplies but kept her eyes glued to my legs. “Maya, is this the first time you’ve worn such a short skirt to the office?” Short? It was knee-length. I flashed a quick, fake smile and didn’t reply. She enthusiastically added, “That color really makes you look… darker. Listen to me, next time pick a different shade.” Brenda was part of Chloe’s mean girl squad. They were inseparable, going to the bathroom together like high schoolers, despite being in their mid-thirties. They had definitely roasted my skin tone over lunch, but they still felt the need to say it to my face in front of everyone, terrified I might not realize I wasn’t pale like them. I stood up abruptly and stopped her. “Brenda, are you sick—” Chloe, who had been watching from her desk like a hawk, didn’t wait for Brenda to react. She jumped up, her voice screeching across the room. “Maya! Why are you cursing at people? Brenda was kind enough to give you fashion advice, and this is how you repay her?” Brenda’s face flushed red, and she pointed a finger at me. “Exactly! You’re too sensitive. I wasn’t mocking you; I just wanted you to look more professional.” Seeing everyone looking our way, Chloe doubled down. “Maya, you’re so ungrateful. Did you forget how patient Brenda was teaching you when you first started? Without her, would you even have passed your probation?” Neither of them let me finish my sentence. They just wanted to catch me slipping up. I sighed, pointing helplessly at the leave request form sitting on the printer. “Brenda, I was going to say, last time you were out sick, you didn’t file the paperwork. I’m worried that when attendance comes out later, HR will dock your pay.” The two of them looked at each other, instantly silenced. The anger they had queued up had nowhere to go. Brenda’s face dropped. she grabbed the form and scurried off. I added a helpful reminder, “Brenda, make sure you get it signed next time you’re sick.” 02 Chloe finally quieted down, though she kept tapping furiously on her phone. Whenever the boss went on a business trip, she would disappear—picking up packages, vanishing for two-hour “breaks.” Her work ethic was nonexistent. I was envious, but I didn’t dare slack off. I had to be here. Until I gained enough XP and gathered the necessary intel, I couldn’t go home. I rubbed my sore eyes and continued checking the project budget data. Todd, a male colleague, pushed the door open. He pretended to tie his shoe, stealing a quick glance at my legs. I didn’t know men could be this gossipy. Suddenly, a message popped up in the unofficial office group chat. It was a photo of the boss standing next to a very tanned model. If I remembered correctly, it was taken at a car show last year. They still didn’t know I was lurking in the group using the janitor’s WeChat account. Chloe was chatting up a storm: “No wonder the boss values Maya so much. Turns out he has a thing for dark skin.” Brenda: “Rich people have such peculiar tastes. Maya never wore a skirt this short before.” Chloe: “If she doesn’t show it off, how would the boss know?” Todd seemed to have a conscience: “Maya isn’t that dark. Besides, she works really hard.” Chloe immediately fired back: “Todd, are you trying to fight the boss for a woman?” Todd didn’t dare reply. Chloe kept ranting. “Sophie was stupid, but at least she was pretty. I don’t know what’s wrong with the boss’s eyes, firing her and keeping this one.” ” considering how Maya messed up that huge project during her internship, she shouldn’t have been hired full-time.” “Sophie” was the boss’s former secretary, Sophie Miller. I took over her position when she left. If Chloe hadn’t mentioned the full-time offer, I would have forgotten. I had parachuted into the company at the beginning of the year. I didn’t know much about the internal politics. The boss asked Brenda to help me get up to speed. Brenda used her lifetime of experience to sabotage me. She assigned me a mountain of busy work but taught me nothing. Whenever I asked questions, she’d say, “Maya, in the corporate world, you have to figure things out yourself. I can’t spoon-feed you.” Back then, I thought her seniority meant wisdom. Before I started, my mom told me, “Work is a form of spiritual practice.” To their faces, they were warm, often giving me snacks. When my three-month probation was up, I invited Chloe and Brenda to my family’s place to pick berries. “My mom grows them herself, no pesticides. They’re super sweet.” But their usual enthusiasm vanished. They made excuses and refused. And because I never ordered takeout and always heated leftovers in the break room, strange rumors began to circulate. They said my family were farmers trying to hawk fruit to coworkers. They said I was a charity case the boss was sponsoring, which was why I got hired despite “screwing up.” I silently wrote in my workplace observation journal: The company suffers from “Toxic Solidarity.” Employees use boundary-crossing remarks or rumors to break the ice, quickly forming an evil cohesion. This kind of solidarity solidifies prejudice and lowers the moral standard of the group. 03 Near the end of the day, I finished checking the quotation sheet. I looked up and saw the boss. He was back early. Chloe was pretending to maintain client relations on the phone. As soon as the boss entered, his gaze landed on me. He swept over my legs, looked up at the air conditioning vent, and snapped, “Maya, there’s a blanket in my office. Why didn’t you get it?” I gave a dismissive “Oh” and didn’t move. The boss grabbed the blanket himself and threw it onto my desk, causing a stir among the colleagues. Chloe grabbed her phone and bolted to the break room. The small group chat started flashing again. It was just Chloe and Brenda. “I told you there was something going on between them!” “Back when Sophie was wearing skirts in winter and got arthritis, he never asked a single question.” “The boss is really desperate. How can he stomach someone that dark?” “Shameless. She knows he’s married and still acts like the mistress.” “I don’t care. I’m telling the boss’s wife. I have her Instagram.” I calmly took a screenshot, grabbed my laptop, and walked into the boss’s office, closing the blinds behind me. Half an hour later, the office door was kicked open. “Liam! What are you doing in there with your secretary?!” The doors swung wide. I was lying on the boss’s leather sofa, playing on my phone. Chloe and Brenda stood at the doorway, gloating as they watched the boss’s fierce wife storm in. Even the janitor and the security guard came to watch the drama. The boss, Liam, who had been sitting at his desk seriously reviewing the PPT, jumped at the sound of the kick. His face turned black as a skillet. I was afraid he’d blow my cover in his agitation, so I quickly winked at him. I exchanged a glance with Chloe and Brenda too. Before Liam could speak, Chloe rushed forward, grabbing the wife’s arm. “Mrs. Sterling! See? I didn’t lie to you!” The beautiful woman paused, looking confused. She asked Chloe angrily, “You said she is the secretary seducing my husband?” Chloe, assuming the wife thought I was too dark and unworthy, felt emboldened. “Yes, that’s her. Don’t be fooled by her quiet act. Even though Liam is my boss, as a woman, I can’t stand this kind of thing. Even if he fires me next month, I’m standing by you.” I sat up on the sofa. “What are you talking about, Manager Chloe? I don’t get it. Wasn’t it Brenda who told me that Secretary Sophie used to nap in here too?” I remembered Brenda whispering that to me when I started. Brenda started sweating bullets, desperately explaining, “No such thing! Don’t listen to her nonsense.” Chloe’s face turned sour. They were grasshoppers on the same rope; they used the same script for rumors. The scene was chaos. Liam, unable to contain his rage, glared at Chloe. “Chloe, what is wrong with you? Are you drunk on the job? Go to finance tomorrow morning and pay for the door. That was custom-made, and it wasn’t cheap. Everyone else, get back to work. Maya, you stay.” I lowered my head. “Yes, sir.” Liam wrapped his arm around his agitated wife’s waist, coaxing her as they walked out. “Honey, don’t overthink it. I fired that weird secretary ages ago. Did I forget to tell you? My bad, my bad…” Seeing that no one was praising her “righteousness” and that she now owed the company for a door, Chloe was fuming. As soon as Liam left, she ran up to me, screaming. “Maya! If you two are innocent, why close the blinds during work hours? And he knows you broke the rules, causing the company a 3.6 million dollar loss, yet he makes you full-time? There’s definitely something shady going on!” I wanted to prove my innocence, but not like this. Closing the blinds was none of her business. I retorted, “Chloe, the boss and his wife seem pretty in love. Why did you say they were getting a divorce? You told me to seize the opportunity so I could take you to live in a mansion and drive a Bentley once I got rich!” Her voice cracked with panic. “Stop spreading rumors! When did I ever say that? Do I even know you like that?” I perked up. “Exactly. We aren’t close, so why are you obsessed with me? Today my skin is too dark, tomorrow my hair is frizzy, the next day I look bloated. Also, does it matter if I wear pantyhose? Are you underworked or do you have a fetish? If you like them that much, I’ll bring you a pair tomorrow.” “You…” Chloe was speechless. She had trapped herself. I admit, she never told me the boss was divorcing. But she told everyone else, so I wasn’t technically framing her. Brenda, afraid of getting burned, had already physically distanced herself from Chloe. But fearing Chloe would call her out for being disloyal, she reluctantly played peacemaker. “Forget it, forget it, Maya. It must be a misunderstanding. We’re all colleagues; no need to be so harsh. I trust your character, and the boss’s. Chloe is just hot-tempered and hates seeing women get bullied. She was joking. If you’re going to throw a tantrum about it, we won’t joke with you anymore.” I marveled internally. A true corporate veteran. Textbook gaslighting. I wanted to take out my notebook and write this down. With a few light sentences, she shifted the concept, turning a malicious setup into a “misunderstanding” and “joke.” She turned my legitimate defense into being petty and bad-tempered. I patted her shoulder heavily. “Okay, Brenda. I forgive you two. You can go now. I need to keep working.” I couldn’t kick them out immediately, but seeing Chloe’s eagerness to throw dirt on the boss today… I guessed the opportunity for layoffs was coming soon. 04 I ground myself a cup of civet coffee, wandered around the boss’s office, and found a photo from last year’s team building. Secretary Sophie was indeed young and pretty, but she had eyes. She wouldn’t fall for a mediocre-looking married man like the boss. After musing for a while, Liam returned after dropping off his wife. He saw me and immediately complained. “Maya, did you steal my coffee beans?” I glared at him. “Mom bought these beans. Why would I steal yours?” Liam looked aggrieved. “You’re investigating the mole, I get it. But can you not draw the fire onto me? To calm your sister-in-law down, I had to renew her kickboxing membership for three years. She even asked when we’re firing those two drama queens…” Hearing this, I pouted. “Fire them tomorrow. Stop the investigation. We don’t need the big client. Just hand over the domestic market Dad fought for to the competitors. When we can’t make payroll, the first things we sell are your Bentley and your villa.” Liam, who cherished his car and house above all else, quickly backtracked. “You know I didn’t mean that. We’re expanding to overseas clients next month; I’m just worried about complications.” I sipped my coffee. “Bro, don’t worry. Almost there.”

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My boyfriend, Liam, got amnesia. He forgot he was gay. He forgot me. Chasing him was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and I didn’t plan on doing it again. Coincidentally, his mother also hoped he could return to his “original” life. I compromised and went back to being a stranger in his life. But when I pretended not to know him as I walked by, he suddenly pulled me into his arms. “Sorry if I offended you… it was muscle memory saying I should hug you.” 1 Before going to sleep, I remembered another one of Liam’s flaws and noted it down: [ Severe procrastination, always waits until midnight to shower. ] Scrolling down the screen, I had already listed more than twenty items after racking my brains these past few days. I thought, when I hit fifty, I could completely let go of Liam. Liam was my boyfriend, a straight guy I had chased for a long time. He got amnesia. He forgot he was gay, and he forgot me. And there was almost no possibility of recovering his memory. This blow to me was no different from painstakingly setting up dominoes, only for them to suddenly collapse halfway through, wasting all previous efforts. We were both people with distinct personalities, and it took a long time to smooth things out between us. Compromising with each other, yielding to each other, changing ourselves to fit the other person. Just as life was getting more and more harmonious, the progress bar suddenly reset to zero. When his accident happened, I was on a business trip. Rushing back, I saw him smiling and joking with a beautiful nurse. I already knew the diagnosis on the way, but I still wondered if he was pranking me. Seeing that familiar yet strange smile, I realized it was real. He noticed me by the door, looked me up and down with an inquisitive gaze, and finally gave me a friendly nod. That distant attitude made my world spin, and I couldn’t breathe. Liam’s mother supported me and led me aside. Two years ago, she was very dissatisfied with me turning her son gay, but finally compromised out of helplessness. This accident, she said to me, might be a good thing. Sure enough, she held my hand and pleaded: “Alex, can you let him go and let him live a normal person’s life?” Erasing chat records, deleting photo albums, informing mutual friends. Exiting someone’s world turned out to be so simple. 2 Liam left quite a few things in our small home. I packed them all up and sent them back to the Zhou family. I confirmed with his mother that Liam wasn’t there before going, but unexpectedly ran into him returning just as I was leaving. As the elevator doors opened, he twirled his car keys, his eyes meeting mine, and let out an “Ah”. “It’s you.” He stepped aside. “Did you come to see me? I’m fine now. Thanks for coming.” I quickly controlled my expression and stepped out of the elevator. “No, I heard from your mom.” Liam hesitated to speak, looking a bit embarrassed. “Um… sorry, I lost a few years of memory, so I don’t really remember who you are… To visit me at home, was our relationship pretty good? Were we colleagues?” Although I was mentally prepared, hearing him say this still caused a dull pain in my heart, and endless bitterness welled up. Forcing down the surging emotions, I tried to keep my voice steady: “Yeah. We were in the same project group. I’m Alex. When you return to work, I can help you catch up.” Liam’s expression relaxed, revealing a grateful smile. “Thanks. Want to come up and sit for a while?” I could tell it was just politeness. Not long after we got together, Liam took me home. I wandered downstairs, hugging a pillar, afraid to go up. He hoisted me onto his shoulder and carried me into the elevator, trapping me in the corner so I had nowhere to run. At that time, he smiled and comforted me: “Don’t worry, my mom doesn’t hit people. If she really does, I’ll carry you and run.” I looked at Liam, who was wearing a distant smile now, and lowered my eyes. “No need. See you at the company.” Back in the car, I opened the memo app, fingers trembling as I noted another one: [ Taste regressed, the cologne he chose smells awful. ] Almost 30 items now. The progress I anticipated was already halfway done. But no matter how many flaws I came up with, none could erase even a bit of his weight in my heart. I leaned back against the seat and sighed, when suddenly there was a knock on the car window. It was Liam. I rolled down the window, and he leaned down to look at me. “Maybe I’m being nosy, but are you really okay? You looked a bit pale just now.” I rubbed my face: “It’s nothing, maybe just a bit tired.” “Should I call a designated driver for you? I got into an accident because I was distracted while driving, better to be cautious.” No one knew what he went out to do that day. A few days before the accident, I vaguely felt he was hiding something from me, but I was never one to get to the bottom of things. Now that the person involved had forgotten everything cleanly, I would never know. “Thank you.” After being thanked by him so many times these past two days, I finally returned one. “But don’t worry, I value my life very much, I’ll be careful driving.” 3 I didn’t tell him that actually, we weren’t just colleagues, we were also college roommates for a year. In my senior year, I took a year off due to illness. When I returned, I was assigned to Liam’s dorm. I originally thought that in the last year, most people would be studying or preparing for exams, so there wouldn’t be much interaction. But Liam swaggered into my life just like that. Considering my poor health during recovery, he fetched food for me, ran to the counselor for materials, accompanied me to follow-up checks, and even guarded outside while I showered, worried I might suddenly faint. He said: “We’re bros, I should do it.” If it were before, I would never provoke a straight guy. But after hovering between life and death—what’s there to restrain? I’m going to date the person I like, dammit. If he’s straight, then I’ll bend him. I want to live in the moment. I chased him for more than half a year, but didn’t succeed even by graduation. On the day of leaving school, I put the offer from the same company as him and the flight ticket back to my hometown in front of him, asking him to choose one for me. He glanced at it and said: “Stop chasing so dryly.” Hearing this, my heart died completely. I pulled my suitcase and was about to leave. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me back. I fell onto his lap, and before I could react, he held the back of my neck and kissed me hard. “Can’t you just kiss me directly?” 4 Liam’s return to work happened half a month later. The leader arranged a colleague for him to guide him back into the workflow. Amidst a circle of greetings and inquiries, he cast a puzzled look at me. I sat outside the crowd, head down, drinking water. He took the casual lie I told that day seriously. Unsurprisingly, he blocked me in the pantry. “Alex, why isn’t it you?” “I’ve been a bit busy lately.” I shoveled creamer into my coffee cup, masking my guilt. “So the team leader arranged someone else. He’s very capable, you’ll be fine with him.” “But… I asked others, and they said our relationship isn’t good at all, we barely talked.” … I thought for a moment and said sincerely: “They’re right. It’s just that I’m a person whose love overflows easily. Even when the cleaning lady sprained her ankle, I went to visit her.” Liam shut his mouth. His gaze moved down to my coffee cup, half filled with white powder. “You can’t drink that, non-dairy creamer is bad for your health.” These words, this tone, made me dazed for a moment, thinking he hadn’t lost his memory. Liam didn’t let me eat junk food, he was very strict. Every time I craved junk food, I could only order takeout behind his back. I’m really not good at disguising, always getting caught. On the days I got caught, he would torment me until dawn, claiming to help me metabolize it quickly. I smiled, brewed it in front of him, and gulped down a big mouthful. “I just like this cheap taste.” His Adam’s apple bobbed, clearly forcing words back down. “If there’s nothing else, hurry back to work.” I wasn’t sure if I stayed alone with him any longer, I might say something I shouldn’t. As I walked past him, an arm suddenly blocked my stomach, gently pulling me in. I blinked slowly. That second seemed to be infinitely prolonged. Body heat separated by two layers of clothes, a firm chest, warm breath on the back of my neck. I froze on the spot, and Liam immediately pulled back. He looked down at his hand in bewilderment, his devastatingly handsome face now flushed red. “Sorry, sorry.” He stammered, apologizing in panic, “I don’t know what happened, suddenly just…” Truly strange. The brain doesn’t remember, but the body has its own memory? Liam and I were an underground office couple. Others only knew we didn’t communicate much and had an average relationship. But they didn’t know about our fingers intertwining in crowded elevators, bold hugs in the empty pantry, kisses masked by the sound of machines in the copy room. Perhaps having done these things too many times, the body already had inertia.

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1 As the wedding march played, my bride Captain Evelyn Reed detonated our lives. Her lover Aiden was on his deathbed. She rose from the altar, tearing off her veil. “Caleb, Aiden is dying. I have to go now.” Her eyes showed no guilt. Silence fell. The Command’s top brass in the front pews watched with stony displeasure. “Evelyn,” I said clearly, “this is more than our wedding—it’s an alliance between our families. Will you shatter the honor of both dynasties for one man?” Evelyn froze, shocked by my public challenge. Whispers spread: “Poor Dr. Hall…” “They say she’s carrying that man’s child…” In my past life, I’d begged her to stay, but Aiden died alone and she miscarried from grief. She grew to hate me, tormenting me until my death and leaving my body to rot in the rainforests. Now, reborn at the altar, I looked at Evelyn in white and felt only cold irony. This time, everyone would see it was the Reeds who betrayed me. This time, Evelyn Reed would pay for her choice. … “Captain Reed, it’s an emergency!” A young woman in uniform burst into the chapel, interrupting the vows. “Aiden’s fading fast! He’s asking for you!” Tears streamed down her face. “Captain, please, you have to save him! He’s the father of your baby!” Even knowing the truth, the words were a dagger to the heart. She was already pregnant with another man’s child. My hand tightened around the velvet ring box. Across from me, Evelyn’s hand went limp, her face draining of color. “What are you talking about? What’s happened to Aiden?” She turned to leave, ready to abandon the entire congregation. Last time, this was the moment I stopped her, forcing her into a marriage that became my tomb. This time, I wouldn’t stand in her way. But I would make her fall. I grabbed her arm. “Evelyn, who is Aiden? And what did she mean, you’re pregnant?” I let shock and devastation flood my features, earning looks of pity from every guest. The whispers started again. “My God, the poor man. His bride is pregnant with her lover’s child before the wedding is even over.” “On the day of their union, too. What a slap in the face to the Hall family.” Evelyn shot me an impatient look. “Caleb, it’s true, I’m carrying Aiden’s child. It was an accident. But I can’t let him die alone. I’ll explain everything later.” She tried to pull away. “Wait,” I said, stepping in front of her. “Today is our wedding day. You’re going to walk out on me, in front of our commanders and comrades, for another man? What does that say about the honor of my family?” “If you loved someone else, why didn’t you tell me? Why wait until our wedding day to humiliate me like this?” “A Hall son doesn’t have to marry a Reed daughter.” She tore her hand from my grasp. “I’m not saying I won’t marry you! But Aiden’s life is on the line! I can’t just ignore that!” My eyes welled up, a single tear tracing a perfect path down my cheek. “But this alliance was set in stone by our families. The invitations were sent, the union sanctioned by the Command. If you leave now, this marriage is void. You can explain that to our parents tomorrow.” My tears fell like broken pearls. In this life, I had learned how to weaponize weakness. I would make it clear to everyone that Evelyn Reed, and the entire Reed family, were the ones at fault. Hearing the gossip around them, Evelyn’s parents, General and Mrs. Reed, turned beet red. “Evelyn, stop this nonsense!” her father boomed. “Today is your wedding to Caleb! You will not walk out of here!” “Get back here and finish the ceremony!” The young woman soldier dropped to her knees. “General, Ma’am, please! Aiden is the father of your grandchild! Can you truly be so heartless?” “Captain,” she cried, turning to Evelyn, “Aiden has followed you without name or recognition. Are you really going to let him die alone?” “Father, Mother, can you?” Evelyn echoed, her voice pleading. She then turned her glare on me. “This is a dynastic union. The marriage is inevitable, so what’s the rush? Is the great Hall family so desperate to marry me off that it can’t wait a single day? Isn’t that a little pathetic?” Her tone softened. “Caleb, I know you’re reasonable. We’ll be living together soon enough. I’m sure you and Aiden can get along peacefully, can’t you?” A cold smile touched my lips. “Evelyn, you and I are not yet married. This union is not yet fact. I have no intention of becoming ‘brothers’ with your lover.” I threw the ring box to the ground. “If you’re so determined to save him, I won’t stop you. But the alliance between our families will not be jeopardized by your personal drama.” “Does the Reed family name mean so little to you?” General Reed’s face was a mask of cold fury. “Evelyn, this union affects the standing of two Commands! Are you going to drag this entire family through the mud for some boy?” Evelyn was dismissive. “Father, I agreed to the alliance, didn’t I? What does it matter when the wedding happens? You’re making a mountain out of a molehill.” She was completely oblivious to the gravity of the situation. “What’s next? Are you going to dictate when we’re allowed to sleep together?” Seeing her father’s rage finally boil over, I took a step forward, a faint smile on my lips. I addressed her parents. “General, Mrs. Reed. The alliance is between the Hall and Reed families. It doesn’t specify which daughter I must marry.” “Since Evelyn already has someone she loves, I won’t stand in her way. Our engagement is hereby terminated. The woman I marry today will be her sister, Elara Reed.” The chapel erupted in gasps. Evelyn laughed out loud. “What did you say? You want to marry my sister? She’s just a border patrol grunt! I am a Special Forces Captain! The chosen successor to the Reed legacy! Have you lost your mind?” I met her arrogant gaze without flinching. “And what of it? You may be the heir, but you cheated during our engagement and got pregnant by another man. Why would I marry someone with no loyalty? Elara may serve on the border, but she is a decorated soldier with integrity. She is a thousand times the woman you will ever be.” I gave her a mocking look. “Or are you having second thoughts? Do you want to marry me after all? Oh, but dear Aiden… I wonder how he’s doing. Is he writhing in agony right now?” The young soldier tugged on Evelyn’s arm. “Captain, we can’t wait any longer! Aiden is running out of time!” Evelyn stared at me, her face a canvas of contempt. “Fine. If you’d rather marry my sister than be my husband, I’ll grant you your wish. After I have Aiden’s baby, he’ll live with me in the Reed house. Caleb Hall, don’t you dare regret this!” With that, she ripped the bride’s corsage from her dress, threw it to the floor, and stormed out of the chapel in a fury. I turned to my aide. “Contact my parents. Tell them to bring the alliance contract.” My parents arrived within minutes. My father’s face was thunderous. “So this is the Reed family’s honor! Do you take the Halls for fools? For your daughter to create such a scandal on her wedding day… Don’t blame us for what comes next.” I stepped between them. “Father, it’s settled. I won’t marry Evelyn. But the alliance is what matters, not the specific bride. With Evelyn’s infidelity and her pregnancy, I refuse to marry her. But she isn’t the only daughter. There is still Elara.” My mother spoke in a low voice. “Caleb, you don’t have to sacrifice yourself. If we annul the contract now, the fault is entirely theirs.” I smiled faintly. Annulling a sanctioned military union was a messy affair. Switching the bride was far simpler. The Command wouldn’t care if I married the first or second Reed daughter, as long as the alliance held firm. Besides, in my previous life, after Evelyn had driven me to my death, it was Elara who had stood up at my funeral and condemned her sister’s betrayal, opening everyone’s eyes to Evelyn’s true nature. My father considered this, then nodded. He turned to General Reed. “General, your thoughts?” General and Mrs. Reed agreed immediately. “This is for the best. We’ve wronged Caleb terribly. Someone, get Elara here at once.” My father held up a hand. “Of course my son has been wronged. Captain Reed’s deplorable conduct and public breach of this contract… if word of this gets out, it will damage both our reputations. She was pregnant with another man’s child during her engagement to my son.” “If the Reed family offers no form of amends, the high command might assume you condone this behavior.” General Reed looked stunned. “What do you propose?” I spoke up. “Since you agree that I have been wronged, and my family has chosen not to escalate this into a public feud, there is a simple solution. I suggest, General, that you recommend to the Command that Evelyn be stripped of her promotion eligibility. Her key duties should be reassigned to Elara.” “After all, as the designated heir, Evelyn has accomplished little besides bringing scandal to her family. Elara is a proven hero with a string of commendations. Don’t you think she is far better suited for leadership?” Defeated, General Reed finally nodded. “Very well. I will submit the recommendation to change the succession tomorrow.” “Miss Elara is here.” I turned. Elara was standing at the back of the crowd. I didn’t know how long she’d been listening. Dressed in her dusty border patrol uniform, she looked weary from travel, but it couldn’t hide her striking features. As she walked forward, her father placed a hand on her shoulder. “The family’s future rests on you now. Since your sister has no regard for her duty, let her have her freedom. The position of Reed heir is no longer hers.” Elara’s gaze met mine. “Dr. Hall, I’m just a soldier. I don’t understand all this romance and drama. I may not have time for moonlit walks. But I, Elara Reed, swear this: if we marry, I will be loyal to you for the rest of my life.” I smiled. “I know.” As the wedding march began anew, I placed the veil on her head. We exchanged rings and became husband and wife. Under the warm glow of the wedding lights, a weight lifted from my soul. This time, I was free of Evelyn Reed. And I had taken her future. Let’s see how she feels when she realizes she lost everything for the sake of her precious Aiden. The story of how Captain Reed abandoned her groom at the altar for a lover spread through the entire military command overnight. Three days later, when I accompanied Elara to her family home for the customary post-wedding visit, the Reeds had summoned Evelyn to return. She didn’t come alone. On her arm was Aiden, his cheeks rosy with health. For a man who was supposedly at death’s door just days ago, he looked remarkably well. He wore a designer coat and a custom watch, his arm wrapped possessively around Evelyn’s waist as they strolled in. “General, Mrs. Reed. I’m Aiden.” He didn’t bother to hide his smugness, his other hand resting on her still-flat stomach. The General’s face turned to stone. “What is the meaning of this? How dare you bring him here today!” “Father, Mother, Aiden is the man I love,” Evelyn announced. “He is the father of my child. I can’t pretend he doesn’t exist.” “Aiden and I are truly in love. We’ve decided to get married. I’ll be filing the official request with the Command.” Aiden looked at her with theatrical devotion. “Evelyn, my love, having you is all I need. Please, don’t argue with your parents for my sake.” Evelyn hugged him tighter. “My mind is made up. You will be my husband.” She then saw me, dressed in my formal suit, and her tone softened. “Caleb, I know I wronged you on the wedding day, leaving you to face the guests alone. I didn’t expect you to be so understanding and not make a scene. I’ll make it up to you.” “What I said about breaking the engagement was just in the heat of the moment. I’ll treat you well from now on.” “But Aiden is the father of my child, so he is the one I must marry. You can stay here with me. Aiden is a gentle soul, not suited for managing a household. You can run things here; it will give you some standing. You and Aiden must learn to get along.” I was about to respond to this torrent of nonsense when someone else spoke for me. “Sister, what are you saying to my husband? Caleb, darling, it’s time to serve tea to the elders.” Elara stepped out from behind me, gently taking my arm. Evelyn was dumbfounded. “What did you say? Your husband? The person Caleb married was me! How could it be you?” Elara smiled, her hand tightening on mine. “No, sister. You didn’t complete the wedding. You ran off to be with your Aiden, remember? Everyone in the Command knows that the person who exchanged rings with Caleb and spent the wedding night with him… was me.” “Impossible!” Evelyn shrieked. “Father, Mother, how could you let this happen? We’ll be a laughingstock!” General Reed’s face was dark. “You’re just now realizing we became a laughingstock yesterday? If it weren’t for Elara, the Reed family name would be in ruins!” Suddenly, the formal announcement of a military courier cut through the argument.

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I spent two years wiping his face, massaging his atrophied muscles, and whispering to a man who couldn’t hear me. Or so I thought. On the day Caleb Sterling finally opened his eyes, his “first love,” Chloe, swept into the room in a white dress, holding a bouquet of lilies. “Caleb,” she sobbed beautifully. “I’ve taken care of you for two years. You’re finally back. Will you marry me?” He stared at her blankly, then reached out and took the flowers. Standing in the corner, I felt my heart shrivel. Two years of devotion, erased in a second. I was just the background character in their epic romance. Then, Caleb sat up and kicked her square in the chest. “Absolutely not! Get the hell out! I was in a coma, Chloe, I wasn’t dead.” He threw the flowers at her shrieking form. “You want me to marry you? Keep dreaming. Actually, don’t even dream about it. It makes me sick.” 1 I’m Maya. The invisible daughter. I spent two years living in the Sterling estate, caring for Caleb after the car crash that nearly killed us both. Today, at the Sterling mansion, I was blocked by security while Chloe strutted in. She stopped to sneer at me. “Give it up, Maya. You can’t compete with me.” “You think washing his face for two years matters? Watch. I’ll propose, and he’ll say yes. He’s always loved me.” I believed her. Caleb and Chloe grew up together in the Hamptons. They were the golden couple. Before the accident, Caleb treated her like a princess. But I needed to see him wake up. Just once. I stood in the shadows as the family doctor finished his examination. The moment the doctor stepped back, the double doors swung open. Sunlight flooded the room, framing Chloe like an angel. “Caleb… I’ve waited so long. I took care of everything. Now that you’re back… marry me? Let’s finally be together.” Caleb rubbed his eyes, silent. Chloe pressed on, her voice trembling with rehearsed emotion. “I love you so much. You slept for two years, and I watched over you for two years. It’s finally our time. It’s fate.” Caleb stopped rubbing his eyes. He reached out. He took the bouquet. I closed my eyes. Of course. Then came the thud. And the scream. “Fate?” Caleb roared, his voice raspy but terrifyingly loud. “You call pregnant with some other guy’s baby ‘fate’? You think I look like a charity case here to raise your bastard?” “Get lost!” Me: Wow. 2 Chloe sat on the floor, stunned. Her perfect makeup was smudged. “Caleb… what… what are you saying?” “Are you deaf or just stupid?” Caleb snapped. “Do I need to repeat what you said while you were hooking up with your boyfriend right next to my hospital bed?” “Caleb, no! Listen to me!” “No?” Caleb’s face flushed red—probably from the exertion of kicking her. He slumped back against the pillows but kept pointing a finger. “Wasn’t it you who brought guys into my room? Wasn’t it you who laughed about how ‘exciting’ it was to cheat next to a vegetable? Wasn’t it you calling me a brain-dead cripple? And now you propose? Do you have no shame?” My jaw hit the floor. Chloe hadn’t lifted a finger to help him in two years. I assumed she was just lazy and wanted to steal my credit. I didn’t realize she was using his room as a motel. Chloe’s face went from pale to green. She pointed a shaking finger at me. “Caleb! That wasn’t me! That was Maya! I love you! I’m Chloe, your Chloe!” “I know you’re Chloe,” Caleb sneered. “If I didn’t know you well enough, I wouldn’t have known you were that heartless. Loving you was my biggest mistake.” “Caleb…” “Get out. Before I release the hounds.” 3 Caleb wasn’t bluffing. He hated her. Chloe was terrified of dogs. Before the accident, Caleb locked his beloved Dobermans in the basement whenever she visited. Once, when his dog had puppies, Chloe had the staff throw them out into the snow while Caleb was away. They froze to death. He never forgave her for that, but he never threatened her. Until now. “I’m serious!” Caleb shouted. “Arthur! Get me ten dogs. Big ones. If she comes back, let them loose.” “And burn this furniture. The sofa, the curtains—she touched them. Disinfect the whole room. Who knows what diseases she has.” Chloe tried to squeeze out a few tears. “Caleb, we grew up together… why are you humiliating me?” “I’m humiliating you?” Caleb laughed darkly. “I didn’t bring a lover to your bedside. Get out!” He turned to the butler. “Arthur! Get Bella. Tell her it’s feeding time.” Bella was the mother of the puppies Chloe had killed. Chloe shrieked, gathered her dress, and ran. On her way out, she shot me a look of pure venom. I decided to slip away while the chaos settled. I turned to the side door, hoping to disappear. “Maya?” I froze. I’m the illegitimate daughter of the family. The one kept in the attic. Caleb used to only have eyes for Chloe. He shouldn’t even know my name. “Maya, my head hurts. Why aren’t you comforting me?” He sounded… whiny? “And why didn’t you kick that psycho out sooner? I’ve been awake for twenty minutes and I’m already exhausted. I missed you so much, and you try to leave?” “Do you only like me when I’m a vegetable? Fine, I’ll go back to sleep. But say yes to my proposal first.” I stared at him. Did the coma fry his brain? Or did he wake up with a personality transplant? He tried to stand, wobbling. He braced himself against the wall. “Maya. I love you. Marry me.” I was paralyzed. He seemed to sense my confusion. His expression softened. “Maya, I know it was you. For two years. I felt you wipe my hands with warm towels. I smelled the lotion you put on my skin. I heard you crying when Arthur wasn’t in the room.” “I was locked in my own body, but I made a promise. If I ever woke up, I would treat you like a queen. I would marry you.” “My legs are still jelly, but give me a few weeks. We’ll get married. Then we can cuddle. For real.” He stumbled. I instinctively rushed forward to catch him. He collapsed into my arms, grinning like an idiot. “I knew you loved me. Here, take the flowers. Chloe has trash personality, but she picks decent lilies.” I looked at him. This wasn’t the cold, aloof CEO I remembered. “Maya? Why won’t you speak? Say yes.” I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. Caleb frowned. He gently lifted my chin. “Maya… what happened to your voice?” I couldn’t answer. 4 He dragged me to the hospital immediately. The diagnosis was the same as before. Vocal cord paralysis caused by trauma from the accident two years ago. Exacerbated by lack of timely treatment. Caleb’s eyes welled up. “Maya… I’m so sorry. It’s my fault. If I hadn’t been driving…” I watched him cry in his wheelchair and thought back to that night. It was pouring rain. Caleb was picking Chloe up from the airport. My father forced me to go along to carry her luggage. A truck lost its brakes and swerved into our lane. Caleb swerved. He put his side of the car in the impact zone to save the passenger side. To save me. If he hadn’t turned the wheel, I would be dead. Instead, I lost my voice, and he lost two years of his life. I grabbed his hand and wrote on his palm with my finger: Not your fault. You saved me. He looked at the words, tracing them. Then his face hardened. “The doctor said it was treatable. Why didn’t your family pay for surgery? Chloe gets a million-dollar piano, and they let you go mute?” He didn’t know. My father, Richard, barely acknowledged my existence. When the accident happened, they were too busy crying over Caleb to notice I was hurt. By the time I realized the damage, it was “too expensive” and “not a priority.” “Maya,” Caleb said, his voice dropping an octave. “I will fix this. And the people who did this to you? They’re going to pay.” Just then, my phone rang. It was my father.

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During a live broadcast for our new reality show, the strap of my top suddenly snapped. The live chat instantly exploded with hate. “Who is this nobody? She definitely did that on purpose to seduce my Caleb.” “Thirst trap.” “Pick-me girl behavior.” “Shameless! Stripping on camera to get attention.” I turned my head to look at the A-list superstar standing next to me. I decided to show his fans what actual seduction looks like. Chapter 1 As a D-list actress hovering on the edge of obscurity, I somehow landed a spot on a high-profile outdoor reality show. Rumor had it that Caleb Sterling, the top-tier, Oscar-winning heartthrob, was going to be on it. My agent, Maxine, pulled every string she had to shove me into the cast. The official lineup had four people: Tiffany, the current “It Girl” traffic magnet. Leo, a handsome idol-turned-actor. Greg, a veteran comedian and variety show staple. And me, the “who is she?” of the group. Maxine gave me a serious pep talk: “Harper, this is a once-in-a-lifetime shot. You could go viral overnight and become a star.” I looked at the show’s itinerary, nodding along, but privately, I doubted Caleb would actually show up. He never did reality TV. It was probably just the producers using his name for clout. But Maxine really must have sold her soul, because when the official livestream announcement happened, Caleb Sterling actually walked in. As soon as he appeared, the viewer count skyrocketed. After the introductions, the host started cueing the segments. Right at the start, they shuffled the standing order, placing me right next to Caleb. I felt stiff. Caleb’s fanbase was massive and terrifying. One wrong move, and I’d be canceled before I even started. To Caleb’s right stood Tiffany, the darling of the industry. The production obviously wanted to push a “shipping” narrative between them. Suddenly, I felt a slackening sensation on my chest. Then, I watched in horror as the strap of my camisole snapped and slid down my arm. Are you kidding me? Is the wardrobe budget non-existent? I, who had zero screen time until now, suddenly became the focus of the camera. My shirt was half-undone, looking precariously revealing. Caleb, who had been looking at the lens, must have heard the snap. He turned his head and looked right at me. I seriously suspected the production crew sabotaged me. Since I was the nobody, generating some scandalous heat off me wouldn’t hurt their precious stars. My top was barely hanging on. It looked bad. It looked like a “wardrobe malfunction” meant to grab headlines. As expected, the live comments went feral. They were calling me shameless. Accusing me of throwing myself at Caleb. The insults were getting creative. If you didn’t know better, you’d think I had assaulted him. I didn’t do anything! The strap broke on its own! The producers saw what was happening and didn’t cut away. They loved the drama. Screw this. I couldn’t take the disrespect. I curled my lips into a smile, turned fully toward Caleb, and pitched my voice into a sickly sweet, flirtatious register. “Caleb, honey, could I borrow that for a second?” I pointed a manicured finger at his chest. Caleb stood there in a perfectly tailored black suit, looking dapper as hell. On his lapel was a gold feather brooch. He looked at me, then calmly unpinned the brooch. His fingers were long, pale, and elegant. I took it from him with both hands, batting my eyelashes, and whispered in that same breathy voice: “Thank you.” I gave myself goosebumps. Caleb paused. “…You’re welcome.” The stream was lagging, but I glanced at the monitor. The chat was unified: Kill that pick-me girl! Chapter 2 I used the gold brooch to pin my strap back in place. Then, I lightly tugged on Caleb’s sleeve, bringing back my fake, syrupy voice. “Caleb, your pin is just so beautiful.” I just wanted to annoy the haters. I didn’t expect Caleb to turn his entire body toward me, glance at the pin on my chest, and smirk. “Keep it. It’s yours.” I have a weakness for handsome men. Especially men as unreasonably handsome as Caleb Sterling. The tone. The line. The eye contact. Crap. I think I just played myself. The stream was glitching from the traffic overload, but once it smoothed out, one comment spamming the screen caught my eye: [Mrs. Caleb Sterling]: Give my husband’s pin back, you witch! You vixen! Surprisingly high praise. “Vixen” implies I’m hot enough to ruin a life. I’ll take it. Everyone around us was throwing subtle side-eyes, but I didn’t care. I was being annoying on purpose. Caleb, however, cleared his throat and spoke into his mic, his tone calm but firm. “Let’s keep the comments civil, please.” His voice was like velvet. His rational fans immediately stepped in to control the chat. It made me feel a little guilty for trolling, so I behaved myself for the rest of the stream. I faded into the background while the stars talked. Leo, the idol guy, and Greg, the comedian, were super nice. Zero ego. Tiffany, on the other hand, was icy. She only seemed interested in talking to Caleb. Whatever. After the stream, I trended. I didn’t look, but I assumed it was bad. When I got home to pack for the actual filming, Maxine called me, sounding ecstatic. “Harper! You made it! Bad press is still press! Do you know how many followers you gained?” I had about 100k followers on Instagram before this. Mostly bots. “How many?” I asked, throwing toiletries into my bag. “Fifty thousand!” Maxine screamed. Damn. The power of Caleb. I checked my phone. Fifty thousand new followers, and my DMs were filled with red notifications. All hate mail, no doubt. I tossed the phone aside. Internet people are so dramatic. … The next morning, Maxine drove me to the meeting point. I was early; the others were still wrapping up other gigs. That afternoon, the Director, Lee, knocked on my hotel room door holding a file. I invited him in. I’m a nobody; no paparazzi care about who enters my room. “Director Lee, what’s up?” He handed me the file. It was a script. A villain script. It was a tailored “Black Road to Fame” route. He wanted me to be the designated antagonist to generate buzz. “Harper, it’s a win-win.” I looked at the script. Sure, it was a win for the show. But I didn’t want to do it. Every bullet point on the page was designed to make the internet hate me. I’ve stayed invisible in this industry specifically because I hate doing things against my conscience. “Director, let me think about it.” He nodded and left. … Right after Lee left, the Assistant Director, Miller, showed up. He had a slimy smile on his face. “Harper, aren’t you going to invite me in?” I stepped back to let him in, leaving the door wide open. “Harper, you’re so pretty. Why haven’t you blown up yet?” I thought about it seriously. “Maybe the casting directors are blind?” Miller paused, clearly not expecting that answer. He walked past me and shut the door. “I have something to show you. Better to keep the door closed.” He handed me his phone. It was a video of Director Lee entering my room and leaving twenty minutes later. The angle made it look… suggestive. I handed the phone back. “What’s your point, Miller?” “Nothing,” he smirked. “But if I leaked this, what do you think would happen?” “I’d get cyberbullied to hell,” I said flatly. Miller grinned, a predatory look in his eyes. He started unzipping his jacket. “Exactly. You don’t want people to get the wrong idea, right? Maybe we can work something out…” I watched him cold-eyed. This script was too cliché. As he tried to shrug his jacket off, I grabbed the fabric and yanked it back up, choking him slightly. Then, I gathered a mouthful of saliva and spit right in his face. “You sick pervert. Get the hell out.” I might be a D-lister, but I’m not scared of this garbage. The show hasn’t even aired. If he leaks that, he destroys the show’s reputation. The investors would eat him alive. I grabbed a heavy tripod from the corner of the room and started jabbing him toward the door. “Did a pig eat your brain?” I yelled, poking him hard in the spine. Miller yelped and scrambled into the hallway. Just as I jabbed him out the door, Caleb and his personal assistant were walking by. awkward silence. “What’s… happening?” Caleb’s assistant asked. I retracted the tripod and gave a stiff smile. “Director Miller had a stiff back. I was helping him with some… percussive therapy.” The assistant looked skeptical. “Is that so?” “Would you two like to try?” I brandished the tripod. The assistant waved his hands frantically and hustled Caleb away. Caleb didn’t say a word. He just looked at me with those unreadable eyes. That night, Maxine called me in a panic. Miller was known for holding grudges. She said he’d make my life on set a living hell. I told her to relax. I’ve been bullied for two years in this business. What’s a few more days? Chapter 3 After the drama, the show finally started filming. The title was The Journey. The gimmick was that the itinerary was decided by live viewer votes. The director said “anything goes.” The first stop was the Great Smoky Mountains. I expected scenic views. Instead, the van drove us deeper and deeper into the sticks until I thought I was back in my grandma’s village. I sat with Leo. He was bouncing off the walls, excited about the “countryside.” “Aren’t you curious, Harper? Have you ever seen mountains like this?” I looked at the winding dirt road. “Curious? It feels like I’m visiting my relatives.” The live chat scrolled on the monitor in the van. “Leo is so cute!” “Harper is actually kinda funny lol.” We arrived at a farmhouse. Cameras were everywhere. We split into teams based on shirt color. Pink team: Me, Leo, Greg. Blue team: Caleb, Tiffany, and a new guest singer. The Director shouted through a megaphone. “Welcome to Gold River Village! The theme voted by the netizens is ‘Agriculture’!” “Since it’s not harvest season, your task is… catching crawfish in the mud.” The team with the most crawfish gets a feast. The losers get nothing and have to do the dishes. Leo was thrilled. He jumped straight into the mud pit. Tiffany looked horrified. “Harper, you’re so brave. I’m scared of the mud.” I reached down, grabbed a squirming crawfish, and shoved it toward her face. “Don’t be scared, Tiff. Here, a gift.” She screamed. I decided to stay away from her. I wandered over to Caleb’s section. He was surprisingly good at this. His bucket was half full. Mine was empty. I followed him around, trying to learn his technique. Suddenly, I saw a hand reach into my bucket. “Hey! What are you doing?” Caleb dumped my meager catch into his bucket, grabbed the handle, and sprinted away. “Stealing your crawfish!” he yelled back. I stood there, frozen. I thought Caleb Sterling was the cool, mysterious type. Who is this bandit? “Caleb! You brat!” I roared and took off after him. The cameras swiveled. Caleb was surprisingly fast in the mud. The chat went wild. “Wait, is this the real Caleb?” “I’ve been a fan for 10 years and I’ve never seen him run like a thief.” “I take back what I said about Harper, this is hilarious.” I was wheezing. Leo, covered head to toe in mud, watched us run laps. “What’s happening?” “He robbed me!” I shouted. The game ended. Caleb won. I lost. Winners ate inside. Losers stood outside watching. I was starving. My stomach growled audibly. Caleb walked out with a bowl of savory stew. The smell was heavenly. I closed my eyes. Out of sight, out of mind. “Want some?” I opened my eyes. Caleb was holding the bowl right under my nose. I hesitated, then nodded shamefully. He immediately pulled the bowl back. “But you lost. We have to respect the rules.” I mentally cursed him in five languages. Caleb Sterling. What a jerk. Chapter 4 The livestream ended for the night. We were staying in local farmhouses. It was past midnight. I was tossing and turning. I was angry and hungry. Why didn’t I pack snacks? I couldn’t take it. I got up to scavenge. The cameras were off. I crept out to the courtyard and bumped into a dark figure. “Caleb? Are you haunting the place?” After the mud incident, I dropped all formalities. He was half a head taller than me. He turned, his beautiful eyes catching the moonlight. “What are you doing?” “Admiring the moon,” I lied. “It’s beautiful tonight.” “I thought maybe someone was hungry.” “Mind your business.” He walked a few steps, then turned back. “Come on.” “Where?” “To find food. I’m hungry.” My jaw dropped. I watched him eat that whole bowl of stew! But hunger won. I followed him. “Where are we going in the pitch dark?” “Follow me.” He used his phone light. We hopped a fence and ended up in a cornfield. “Go ahead,” he said, snapping a cob off a stalk and handing it to me. “Stealing? Again?” Caleb gently bonked me on the head with the corn. “You want to run without paying?” “I mean…” “If you run, I’ll bring a roast chicken to visit you in prison.” I rolled my eyes. Who started the rumor that he was high-maintenance? We grabbed a few ears of corn. He left some cash under a rock near the farmer’s porch on the way back. “My assistant will come explain tomorrow,” he muttered. Next up: Top Celebrity Roasts Corn for Me. We sat by a small fire in a clearing. I ate two whole ears. Caleb ate half of one. “I thought you were starving?” He just smiled. … We snuck back just before dawn. The next morning, the director announced a change of plans. “Wilderness Survival.” We had to hike up a mountain to visit a famous temple, then head into the woods. Halfway up the mountain, I was dying. We took a break. Miller immediately ran over to Tiffany with a folding chair and a parasol. “Tiff, careful of the sun. Can’t have our star getting a tan.” I sat in the dirt under a tree and rolled my eyes. Caleb walked over, sat next to me, and opened his umbrella. I shamelessly scooted into the shade. He handed me a portable fan. “I owe you one,” I said, fanning myself. “Just be my servant for life,” he deadpanned. His assistant, Ben, handed him another fan. Tiffany’s assistant piped up loudly: “Director Miller is so sweet. Harper, didn’t he bring you an umbrella?” I hadn’t even responded when Caleb muttered, “Dramatic.” I gave him a thumbs up. Then I pitched my voice up to match the assistant’s tone. “Maybe the Director just prefers the other girls. Besides, my skin isn’t as delicate as theirs. I can handle the light.” The cameraman looked like he didn’t know whether to film or run. Later, Ben sat next to me. “Harper, are you married?” “Nope. I’m 24.” “Boyfriend?” “Nope. Why are you so nosy?” “What a coincidence,” Ben grinned. “Caleb isn’t married and has no girlfriend.” I blinked. “Wow. What a coincidence.” … I looked at Caleb. Pale skin, refined features, great body. Rich. Not totally terrible personality… Why am I listing his pros? Scary. “Why are you staring?” Caleb asked. “Don’t get any funny ideas.”

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For eighteen years, my wife, Keira, never once contacted her old flame, Leo Hughes. She became the perfect wife, cooking my favorite meals. She attended every one of our daughter’s parent-teacher conferences. She meticulously planned our family vacations each year. We lived in what seemed like perfect harmony for eighteen years. But the day after our daughter, Bella, turned eighteen, I said to Keira, “Let’s get a divorce.” She was standing at the entrance to Bella’s bedroom, her expression frozen in disbelief. I added quietly, “You promised me, the day our daughter was born, that we would divorce when she turned eighteen.” 1 A choked laugh escaped Keira’s lips. “That was just a joke. You can’t be serious.” The gentle, elegant woman before me slowly blurred, merging with the image of the bright-eyed, innocent girl I’d known eighteen years ago. Our marriage was a business arrangement. Before she agreed to meet me, she had a college sweetheart, Leo. He was from a poor family, a fact Keira’s parents could never accept, so they paid to send him abroad. I gave her a choice back then. One, go after Leo, and I would find someone else to marry. Two, marry me, and cut off all contact with him. Out of a sense of duty to her parents, she chose me. After we married, she was good to me. She got pregnant, and for a while, I dared to believe I could have it all—a profitable merger and a loving wife. That’s why, when I was in that car crash, my first instinct was to call her. But she didn’t answer. When I came to in the recovery room, she called back. Her voice was strained but honest. “I’m so sorry, Liam. Leo had an allergic reaction… anaphylactic shock.” Her love for him made her choose him. Over me. She stammered on the other end of the line, at a loss for what to say next. In that instant, I curled up like a hedgehog, retracting every ounce of affection I had invested in her. Suddenly, her breathing turned ragged over the phone. I heard doctors shouting, rushing her into the delivery room. She had gone into premature labor. For Leo, she had completely disregarded her own body, our child’s well-being. But looking at my tiny daughter, wrapped in a hospital blanket, a strange calm washed over me. “Keira,” I said, my voice flat. “Can you promise me one thing? That we’ll wait until our daughter is eighteen. Then, we can get a divorce.” “For these eighteen years, please, just play the part of a good mother and a good wife for her.” A faint “Okay” came through the phone. I never forbade her from contacting Leo again, but it was as if she’d had a complete change of heart. She threw herself into being the perfect mother, the perfect wife, and never reached out to him. I knew it was all born from a sense of duty. A responsibility to me and to our daughter. But I also knew she never let Leo go. I knew from the way her fingers would trace the old hair tie he gave her in college when she thought I was asleep. I knew from the private investigator she paid every month to send her photos of Leo’s life overseas. She wasn’t a bad person. She tried desperately not to hurt anyone. But her love for him was a vine, growing wild and unchecked in the secret corners of her heart. Now, eighteen years had passed. Keira’s parents were gone. My daughter had grown into a beautiful young woman. And I had finally, completely, let go of any feeling I had for her. It was time to let her go find her true love. 2 I’d been agonizing over how to break the news to Bella, but I never expected the first obstacle to be Keira herself. “It’s okay,” I said softly. “You don’t have to worry about me. I let go a long time ago, eighteen years ago, to be exact.” Keira stared at me, as if truly seeing my resolve for the first time. “And you don’t need to worry about Bella. I’ll explain everything to her.” “You’re free, Keira.” I met her gaze directly. “So,” I said, my voice firm. “It’s time to honor our agreement.” She let out a long sigh, a flicker of guilt in her eyes. “I’m sorry for everything.” “If you or Bella ever need anything, I’ll still be here for you.” Her expression shifted, a wave of excitement washing over her as she reached for her phone and dialed a number that had been dormant for nearly two decades. That night, for the first time in our marriage, Keira and I slept in separate rooms. For eighteen years, despite the distance in our hearts, we had maintained a physical relationship. It always left me with a bitter taste of guilt, as if I were stealing something that belonged to Leo. But Keira never seemed to mind; in fact, as the years went on, she seemed to enjoy it. I pushed the thought away. It didn’t matter anymore. Tonight, that connection was severed for good. The next morning, I found Bella in her room, fresh off a video call with Harvard admissions. I told her that her mother and I were getting a divorce. Before I could even launch into the carefully crafted story I’d prepared, she cut me off. “Dad, you don’t have to lie to me. I know all about what happened back then.” Her words stunned me. “I know you don’t love Mom. And I know it was her who wronged you.” She wrapped her arms around me. “I’ll be here for you, Dad. Always.” A sharp, dense pain bloomed in my chest. She knew. My little girl had known all along. It was my fault. My acting hadn’t been good enough, and I’d left my child to carry such a heavy burden all by herself. With Bella’s understanding, things moved quickly. Keira and I filed for divorce. The plan was to fly to the States to help Bella settle into college. It would also be the perfect opportunity for Keira and Leo to finally reunite. She could decide whether to bring him back home or stay with him in America. The official divorce decree would be finalized after the mandatory thirty-day cooling-off period. The moment our plane landed, Keira was gone, rushing off to see Leo. Bella insisted on going with her. “Dad, I just want to see what this guy looks like,” she said, a defiant glint in her eye. I could sense the resentment still simmering beneath the surface. “Bella, don’t do anything rash. Your mother has paid her dues to us over the past eighteen years.” She didn’t listen. She went with her mother. But as evening turned into a deep, starless night, Bella still hadn’t returned. 3 I called her. The background was a cacophony of music and laughter, like a party was in full swing. “Dad, I’m not coming back tonight.” “Why not?” I asked, a knot tightening in my stomach. She hesitated. “I… I don’t want to be a downer for Uncle Leo. He’s had it rough, you know? It wasn’t his fault, what happened back then. He’s been all alone over here for so long.” She paused, then added, “It’s like you said, Dad. No one owes anyone anything anymore. But don’t worry, I still love you.” It had only taken a few hours for her entire perspective to shift. She was right, of course. No one was truly at fault. But her words made the eighteen years I had fought for feel like a bitter joke. What if I had just divorced Keira back then? Left Bella with her? Would they have been happier as a family of three? But I had poured so much of my life into her. I had swallowed my pride and begged Keira to stay, terrified my daughter would be taunted for not having a mother. I wanted her to have the world, so I leveraged the full power of my family and Keira’s to give her every advantage. After the divorce, Bella would be all I had left. I had already started planning how I would help her find the perfect husband, how I would dote on my future grandchildren. I couldn’t accept this. I had invested a year of my life loving Keira, and I had managed to spend the next eighteen un-loving her. But my daughter? I couldn’t let go of my daughter. “Bella,” I said, my voice strained. “I made your favorite bear-shaped cookies. I’ll wait up for you, no matter how late it is.” She came back in the dead of night. Seeing me still awake, she gently pushed me toward my bedroom. “Dad, the cookies were delicious. Go get some sleep.” A wave of relief washed over me. It was probably just a fleeting moment of sympathy for Leo. My daughter was kind-hearted, and that was fine. A little selfishly, all I needed was to know she still loved me. I closed my eyes, but then I heard it—a faint, breathy sound from the hallway. My daughter, trying to stifle a laugh. I didn’t open my eyes. I couldn’t bear to face it. The fact that in just a few short hours, Leo had completely and utterly captured my daughter’s heart. When Keira and I took Bella to the university for orientation, Leo came along. It was the first time I’d seen him in person. He was more vibrant than in the photos, radiating a youthful energy that was rare for a man his age. He was polite, even friendly, keeping a respectful distance to give me and Bella our moment. But my daughter’s eyes kept darting toward him, her attention clearly divided. Finally, she turned to him. “Uncle Leo, is there anything you want to say to me?” Only then did he step forward, ruffling her hair affectionately. “Don’t be nervous,” he said with a grin. “And if you don’t feel like studying, just make sure you eat well. Being happy and healthy is the most important thing!” He was a firm believer in a pressure-free life. No wonder Bella was so taken with him. He was dressed in athletic wear, his right arm strong and toned. I remembered hearing that Keira had arranged for a badminton court to be built in the backyard of his small villa years ago. It suited his cheerful, carefree personality perfectly. Bella nodded obediently and waved goodbye to us. I turned to Keira and Leo. “So, what are your plans? Are you staying here, or coming back home?” Keira answered. “We’ll stay here with Bella for the next four years. After that… we’ll see what she wants to do.” 4 It was clear they had already mapped out their future in the span of a few days, a future that pointedly excluded me. But the unspoken agreement had always been that Bella would stay with me. Keira dropped Leo off at his house before returning to the hotel with me. She sat down, preparing for a serious talk. “Since Bella chose a school in the States, I think she might be drawn to the freedom here. You can still come and visit her whenever you want.” I thought of Bella’s shining eyes as she looked at Leo, and a wave of confusion hit me. Was my eighteen-year stand completely meaningless? I was silent for a long moment before looking up at her. “Will you hate me? For these eighteen years?” I asked, then added, “Do you think Bella will hate me?” Understanding dawned in Keira’s eyes. “No, of course not. It’s all my fault.” It was her default answer, taking all the blame onto herself. How tedious. I gave up. “Fine,” I said. “I respect Bella’s decision. I hope you’ll all take good care of her.” Keira managed a smile. “You say that as if you’ll never see her again.” “I don’t think I’m cut out for life abroad,” I replied casually. “I prefer a quiet, simple life.” After several days of whirlwind excitement with Leo, Keira’s expression grew complicated, almost nostalgic. I turned and went into my room to pack for my flight home. “Don’t forget,” I called over my shoulder, “you need to fly back in about twenty days to sign the final divorce papers.” She nodded. She was still standing there when I came out. “So,” she asked, “were you acting for all eighteen years?” I rolled my eyes. “Weren’t you?” She faltered, then changed the subject. “Do you think I was… convincing?” She seemed anxious, dabbing at her sweaty palms with a handkerchief. She was probably worried about how she would take care of Leo. I clapped her on the shoulder like an old friend. “Don’t worry,” I said reassuringly. “You’ll be great for Leo.” “In every way,” I added, a sharp edge to my voice. “Including in bed.” I didn’t care anymore, but my words seemed to leave Keira looking strangely lost and deflated. After I returned home, Keira started posting on social media frequently. Trips to art galleries, picnics in the park. In every single photo, Leo’s face was conspicuously absent. She was probably trying to be considerate, given that we weren’t officially divorced yet. But it was just like the past eighteen years. Leo’s presence was a ghost that haunted our lives, a suffocating fog I could never escape. There were moments, I admit, when Keira’s performance had almost fooled me. I’d think, maybe I should just give up. Forget the promise. Pretend none of it ever happened. Maybe we could have another eighteen years together. But I couldn’t betray the man I was eighteen years ago—the man lying broken and bleeding in a hospital bed, utterly alone. Now, I was glad I was letting her go. And it wasn’t too late to let my daughter go, either. Keira would sometimes send me pictures of Bella and we’d exchange a few pleasantries. At first, I’d reply, but eventually, I just stopped. I buried myself in my work. Time flew by in a blur of meetings and deadlines. Before I knew it, the thirty-day cooling-off period was over. 5 Keira and Bella flew back from the States together. The moment Bella saw me, her eyes filled with a familiar dependence. But when I casually asked how long she was staying, she answered without a second’s thought. “We’re leaving tonight.” So soon? So eager to get back to Leo? Keira, at least, had the decency to offer an explanation for my sake. “Her studies are demanding.” Looking at Bella, who seemed completely drained of all energy, a flicker of doubt crossed my mind. Was university in the States really that exhausting? I was tired. I didn’t press the issue. The three of us went to the city hall. The clerk placed the documents in front of us. I signed my name without hesitation. Keira glanced at me, her hand hovering over the paper. I checked my watch. “Could you hurry up? I have a tight schedule.” Bella chimed in. “Mom, just sign it. Uncle Leo is waiting for us for dinner.” Her words landed without impact. I felt nothing. As if in a fit of pique, Keira snatched the pen, scribbled something illegible, and slammed it down on the table. “Are you satisfied now?” Her voice, usually so soft, was low and strained. I raised an eyebrow. “I never forced you to do anything. This was always your choice.” Keira rubbed her nose, a flush of embarrassment on her cheeks. She turned to our daughter. “Bella, let’s go.” But Bella didn’t respond. I turned and saw my daughter’s face was deathly pale. Her body was twitching, her eyes rolling back in her head, and then she collapsed, hitting the floor with a sickening thud. “Bella!” Keira and I cried out in unison. The clerk who had just stamped our divorce papers rushed over to check on her. His face went grim. “That’s not good,” he said, his voice urgent. “She’s going into withdrawal!” Keira stared in disbelief. “Withdrawal? How could she be hooked on something like that? The only thing… yesterday, the bread she ate… Leo gave her that…” Her voice trailed off, the horror dawning on her face.

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Winter was creeping in, and my wardrobe was screaming for an update. As I was browsing online, my roommate, Lauren, rushed over and shoved her phone in my face. “Ava, let’s go in on this puffer jacket together.” Her logic was… something else. “You know how I can’t stand the cold, so I’ll wear it now while the temperature’s dropping. Then when it warms up, it’s all yours!” I just stared at her. Was she for real? Did she think I was a total idiot? Before I could even form a refusal, she excitedly hit ‘purchase’. “It’s the latest model! Four hundred and fifty bucks!” she chirped. “Since I’ll be the one picking up the package, I deserve a little something for my trouble. Just Venmo me three-fifty, okay?” Then came the kicker. “And it’s already bought! If you dare back out, I’ll have my boyfriend—the Student Government president—make sure some of your credits just… disappear. You’ll never graduate.” I looked at her smug, entitled face and a slow smile spread across mine. “Sure,” I said. “Let’s split it.” I couldn’t wait to see who would be the one not graduating, especially after they tried to threaten and extort me in a university my own father funded. 01 Hearing me agree, Lauren nodded, completely satisfied with herself. “Summer and spring are way longer than winter,” she declared, as if explaining a complex theorem. “That means you’ll have it for more time than I will, so you’ll be responsible for the dry cleaning, too.” She gave my shoulder a playful shove, her smile blindingly bright. “I’ll only be wearing it for a few weeks. See? I’m not taking advantage of you at all. You’re getting a great deal!” My eyebrow twitched. “Who in their right mind wears a puffer jacket when it’s warm out?” I asked, my voice flat. “When you give it to me in April, what am I supposed to do with it?” Lauren’s smile vanished, replaced by a scowl. “What’s your problem? You were going to buy a new jacket anyway. Alone, it would’ve cost you $450. With me, it’s only $350. It’s simple math. Are you dense? I’m doing you a huge favor, and you’re still complaining?” I almost laughed out loud. I was supposed to be grateful for paying a fortune for a jacket I’d never get to wear? I pretended to mull it over. “Well, if you think I’m getting such a good deal, why don’t we switch? I’ll wear it when it’s cold, and you can have it when it warms up.” Her expression soured even more. “What is wrong with you? I just told you I hate the cold! Are you trying to pick a fight? No, we already agreed. You’re not backing out now!” So that was it. I was officially the designated sucker. But I wasn’t angry. Not really. After all, the online flagship store she’d bought it from? My family owned it. Not only would I not be losing much, but I already had the perfect plan for teaching her a lesson. Just then, the dorm room door swung open. Our other roommates, Hailey and Megan, walked in carrying takeout containers. Seeing the tension, Hailey frowned. “What’s going on?” I calmly explained the whole “puffer jacket partnership.” I expected them to side with me, to see the sheer absurdity of it. Instead, Hailey’s face hardened as she looked at me. “Lauren’s right, though.” “She’s only wearing it for a short time, and she’s handling the delivery,” she reasoned. “It makes sense that she pays less.” “Exactly,” Megan chimed in, moving to stand with Lauren. “Besides, you’re always so careless and messy. If the jacket gets dirty, it’s only fair that you clean it.” At their words, Lauren shot me a triumphant smirk before turning to her new allies. “By the way, I talked to my boyfriend about your applications to the Student Government. He said it’s a done deal.” Hailey and Megan were instantly fawning over her, grabbing her hands. “You’re the best, Lauren!” “We’re so lucky to have you as a roommate!” “I heard Caleb is the Dean’s son! Once we’re in the Student Government, getting extra credits will be a breeze!” They chattered on, their faces plastered with sycophantic smiles. So that’s what this was about. Everyone was walking on eggshells around her because of her so-called powerful boyfriend. But… the Dean has a son? My dad had known the Dean for years, and all I’d ever heard was that he had a daughter studying abroad. Where did this son come from? Seeing my silence, Lauren shoved her phone in my face again, her Venmo QR code glowing. “This jacket is this season’s hottest item,” she urged. “You should be thanking me that you’ll even get a chance to be associated with it. Now, pay up!” As much as I hated sending the money, the thought of the epic meltdown I was about to engineer made it all worthwhile. I pulled out my phone and scanned the code. The second the $350 transfer went through, Lauren snatched my phone. “Wait! You’re short five hundred dollars!” 02 I stared at her, bewildered. “Wasn’t it three-fifty? Now it’s eight-fifty? Why don’t you just ask me to buy you the jacket outright?” She frowned, crossing her arms. “Ava, everyone knows white is your favorite color, and I specifically ordered the white one for you. That’s an extra five hundred.” I laughed, a sharp, humorless sound. “You placed the order. You picked the color.” She looked at me as if she were bestowing a great gift. “Exactly. I went out of my way to choose the color you like. Why are you so ungrateful?” Hailey nodded sagely from the sidelines. “It’s like with cars. You pay extra for a premium color. This is the same thing. Since it’s the color you like, you should pay for it.” Megan quickly agreed. “Yeah, Lauren already gave you such a huge discount. Don’t be so stingy over a little extra cash.” I looked at them in disbelief. “A little extra cash?” “Yeah,” Lauren said, her arms still crossed. “Your family’s loaded, right? It’s just five hundred bucks. Are you really going to haggle with me over it? If you couldn’t afford it, you shouldn’t have agreed in the first place.” Yes, my family had money. But what did that have to do with her? The initial $350 was bad enough. This was pushing it, and suddenly, this little game wasn’t fun anymore. I took a deep breath, my voice turning to ice. “I never said I liked white. And since it seems nobody is happy with this arrangement, let’s just cancel the order.” The word “cancel” made Lauren freeze. Then she grabbed my arm, her voice a shrill cry. “No! It’s going to get colder in a few days, we can’t cancel it!” she shrieked. “Are you trying to make me freeze to death? How can you be so cruel! If my boyfriend finds out I don’t have a decent jacket to wear when it’s cold, he’ll be heartbroken!” I rolled my eyes. “He’ll be heartbroken? Then tell him to buy it for you. Isn’t he the Dean’s son? If he won’t even shell out for a jacket, it doesn’t sound like he loves you that much.” “You!” Lauren’s face flushed a deep crimson. “I’m not the kind of woman who asks a man to buy things for her! You might have no shame, but I do!” I was done. This was beyond ridiculous. I yanked my arm free from her grasp. “Fine. Don’t cancel it. In that case, I look forward to its arrival.” Without another word, I walked out of the dorm. For the next few days, Lauren acted as if nothing had happened. She even had the audacity to ask me to let her copy my homework. A few days later, I came back from class to find her preening in front of the mirror, wearing the newly arrived puffer jacket. “I’m wearing this to see Ethan tonight,” she announced. “He’s going to love it!” Hailey and Megan were practically drooling. “Lauren, with your figure, you look amazing in anything!” “Caleb will definitely love it!” A slow, predatory smile spread across my face as I stared at the jacket. It had finally arrived. Noticing my silent gaze, Lauren instinctively pulled the collar tighter around her neck. “It’s only forty-five degrees today. I’ll wear it first. You can wait a few more weeks.” She looked me up and down with a condescending sneer. “Besides, I ordered a size small. It might be a little… snug on you right now. Think of it as motivation. I’m giving you time to slim down. Aren’t I nice?” Hailey and Megan snickered. “From the looks of it, she’ll need until next winter!” “It’s fine,” Megan added helpfully. “Spring can be chilly too. Just work really hard, and maybe you can wear it then.” I couldn’t help but smile back. “Oh, it won’t be that much trouble,” I said sweetly. In a flash, I strode to my desk, pulled a pair of heavy-duty fabric shears from my drawer, and walked toward Lauren. She stared at me, confused. The next second, there was the sharp, satisfying shhhhrrrrip of tearing fabric. In less than five seconds, I had sliced the brand-new puffer jacket clean in half, right up the middle. I smiled. “Weren’t we ‘splitting’ the jacket?” “You get half, and I get half. That’s what splitting means.” 03 It took a moment for her brain to catch up. Then, Lauren let out a terrified shriek and stumbled backward. “Ah! What are you doing?!” I held up the two halves, my expression one of pure innocence. “Splitting the jacket. You get half, and I get half.” I pulled the ruined garment off her shoulders, took the shears, and finished snipping through the back. Then I looked up, my eyes wide and guileless. “Do you want the left side or the right side?” Lauren stared at the bisected jacket, her entire body trembling with rage. Her voice was a strained squeak. “Ava Sterling, you are a psycho!” “You’re the one who ruined it! I don’t want it anymore! You owe me money!” I shook my head, clicking my tongue. “Tsk, tsk. I already paid my share. More than my share, in fact. Did you forget?” Hailey and Megan finally snapped out of their shock, pointing at me with accusatory fingers. “You just cut up a perfectly good jacket! You’re sick!” “Lauren waited days for that, and you just destroyed it!” “I bet you were just jealous that she looks better than you!” I smiled serenely. “So, if we ‘split’ a pizza, I can eat it all when I’m hungry, and you two can have the leftover crusts when I’m done? Is that how it works?” “You!” Lauren sputtered, her face turning purple. “You’re twisting my words! A jacket isn’t the same as pizza!” “You knew I had a date with my boyfriend tonight! You did this on purpose, didn’t you!” she screeched, getting more agitated by the second. “I knew it! You’ve been after my boyfriend for ages! You’re trying to ruin our date!” “I’m telling you right now,” she seethed, “you deliberately destroyed my property! I’m going to tell my boyfriend, and I’m going to tell the student counselor! Just you wait!” With that, she stormed out, throwing on a plain wool coat. Hailey and Megan shot me venomous glares. “You’re a real idiot, Ava. You just picked a fight with the Student Government president’s girlfriend.” “It was just a jacket. You’re so petty.” I shrugged nonchalantly. “Today it’s a jacket. Tomorrow it might be a luxury handbag. A few days from now, who knows? Maybe a car or a house.” I paused, a sweet smile on my face. “Since you two are so generous, why don’t you ‘split’ something with her next time?” They both stammered, unable to respond. “Why should we? We don’t have money like you.” “Yeah, you’re being completely unreasonable!” With that, they scurried out after Lauren. Feeling fantastic, I tossed one half of the ruined jacket into the trash. The $350 I lost could be considered a donation to my parents’ flagship store. But for Lauren, this was different. She had picked out this jacket for herself, and for her, $100 was not a small amount. She probably hated my guts right now. Sure enough, I had just stepped out of the shower when my phone started blowing up with notifications from the class group chat. [Ava Sterling, are you mentally unstable? It’s bad enough you’re always freeloading off your roommates, but now you’re destroying their things?] [Are you that jealous that your roommate bought a nice, name-brand jacket?] [Pay Lauren back right now! The full $450! Don’t you dare short her a penny!] I dried my hair, a cold smile playing on my lips as messages flooded the screen. Lauren worked fast. In just a few minutes, she had painted me as a jealous, tyrannical, destructive monster. If she was so eager for social suicide, I was happy to oblige. I opened the group chat and posted a single screenshot. 04 It was my Venmo history with Lauren. A transfer of $350, clear as day. [Before anyone else jumps to conclusions, I paid $350 for this jacket. Lauren only paid $100.] [She proposed we ‘split’ it. She wears it when it’s cold, I wear it when it’s hot.] [Last I checked, no one wears a puffer jacket in May. So, I just helped her realize her dream of ‘splitting’ it. One half for each of us. Perfectly fair.] The chat went silent for a few seconds. Then, Lauren immediately responded: [What $350? I never got that. Anyone can photoshop a screenshot! Stop spreading lies!] [Here’s my purchase confirmation. My order. My name!] [My family isn’t rich like yours. I was planning to wear that jacket for years, and now… now you’ve destroyed it…] Her crocodile tears worked. The chat erupted again, with students rushing to her defense. [I knew it. Who would be weird enough to suggest someone wear a puffer jacket in the summer?] [LOL, who ‘splits’ a jacket anyway? She’s obviously just jealous that Lauren is dating Caleb and made up some crazy story.] [Yeah, if you’re going to lie, at least make it believable!] I rolled my eyes. I was about to post the audio recording when I discovered I’d been kicked out of the group. Just then, my phone rang. It was my dad. “Ava, I heard you had a conflict with a student at school?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. “What happened?” I was stunned. “How did you know?” “Your student counselor just called me,” he explained. “Said you intentionally damaged another student’s property and that I need to come to the university.” It all clicked. Lauren had actually gone to the counselor. Before I could even explain, my dad was already reassuring me. “It’s okay, Ava. I trust you. I know you wouldn’t do something like that. I’ll be there tomorrow.” “Thanks, Dad…” I murmured. Suddenly, the dorm room door burst open. Lauren strode in, a triumphant look on her face. “Ava Sterling. If you give me the money now, I’ll consider dropping this,” she said coolly. “Four hundred and fifty dollars. Not a penny less. Consider it compensation.” I was about to retort when several people walked in behind her. It was Ms. Albright, the student affairs counselor, and… Caleb Vance, the Student Government president? I quickly threw on a jacket. “It’s after 9 PM. Isn’t it against the rules to bring a male student into the dorms?” Hailey, standing nearby, let out a derisive snort. “Oh, stop pretending. You’ve had a crush on Caleb forever. I bet you’re secretly thrilled.” Ms. Albright didn’t intervene. Instead, she fixed me with a stern gaze. “Ava Sterling, you destroyed a fellow student’s private property without cause. You’re in no position to talk about rules. Caleb is here representing the Student Government. Do you have a problem with that?” Caleb looked me up and down, his expression disdainful. “So you’re the one who’s been bullying Lauren?” he drawled. “Forget about joining the Student Government. Now, apologize to Lauren and pay her what you owe. Immediately.” I let out a cold laugh and sat down. “So, Lauren’s courage to extort and threaten students comes from having you two backing her up?” At that, Lauren threw herself into Caleb’s arms and started sobbing. “You see? She doesn’t even respect you, the Dean’s son! Why would she ever respect a counselor?” “If she gets away with this, she’ll only become more arrogant!” “The Dean’s son?” a voice crackled from my phone’s earpiece. It was my dad. “When did old Hayes have a son? Am I missing something?” I had forgotten to hang up. Caleb looked at Ms. Albright. “Lauren’s right. I can have her credits revoked, but that’s not enough.” Ms. Albright gave him a fawning smile, then turned back to me, her face a mask of disgust. “For bullying, violent behavior towards a fellow student, and refusal to offer compensation or an apology, I will be formally recommending your expulsion to the university!” “Think very carefully about your next move!” “Expulsion?!” my dad’s roar echoed through the phone. “You’re going to expel my daughter without even hearing her side of the story? Ha! I’d like to see Dean Hayes try! Ava, don’t be scared. Just wait.” The line went dead. A second later, Ms. Albright’s phone rang.

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