Category: English

Seven months pregnant, and my husband’s childhood sweetheart poisoned the town’s water supply, causing an epidemic to sweep through Maple Creek. She burst into the Senator’s manor, demanding to use my unborn child as the key ingredient for a cure. I didn’t fight back. I let her take the premature baby. Because in my past life, I had pleaded with my husband, Ethan, to let me keep the child. Then, heavily pregnant, I went out to treat the sick townspeople myself. I saved their lives, but they were left with chronic, debilitating headaches. Olivia, his sweetheart, also caught the plague and died from it. Ethan comforted me, saying it was the best possible outcome, told me to rest and focus on the baby, that he would handle everything else. Then, on the day I went into labor, he had me and our newborn son dragged to the town square and publicly tortured to death. Before I died, I saw the twisted hatred on his face. “If you hadn’t poisoned the water, none of these people would have suffered! Olivia wouldn’t have died! You did this horrific thing for your own selfish reasons. Dying like this is getting off easy!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Olivia stormed the manor, demanding my child for her cure. … I closed my eyes in despair amidst the curses of the townspeople outside. I couldn’t believe it. I had run a clinic in the Capital for six years, saved countless lives, yet not a single person believed I was innocent. Even the man I loved believed I was the poisoner. As I opened my eyes again, my assistant Chloe’s voice was firm, “Ms. Hayes, our mistress has a unique constitution. Her pregnancies go to twelve months for a full term. If you take the baby now, at only seven months, it won’t survive.” Olivia scoffed, “Normal women carry for nine months, and a seven-month fetus can survive. Why is your mistress so different?” She raised an eyebrow at me, “Sarah, don’t tell me you’re unwilling to give up the baby to save everyone?” Chloe was furious. “Even if it’s to save people, you can’t do it like this! My mistress is a brilliant doctor herself! Maybe she can cure this epidemic! Why must you take her child for a cure? It’s barbaric!” Olivia couldn’t be bothered arguing. She waved her hand dismissively. “Taking the child saves the whole town! Don’t hesitate, people, get her!” Urged on by her, the crowd forced Chloe and me back against the wall. Every face was fierce, eager to cut open my belly and take the premature child to save themselves. Chloe shielded me desperately, screaming, “This is the Senator’s wife! How dare any of you touch her!” Her shout made them pause. Everyone knew Senator Vance adored his wife. Seeing this, Olivia grew anxious. “The Senator owes his position to the support of the people! We’re just asking for a little blood from the baby’s fingertip after it’s born. She won’t even make that small sacrifice for the town? She doesn’t deserve to be the Senator’s wife!” The crowd turned menacing again. “She always claimed to be compassionate, dedicated to healing, but now there’s an epidemic, she hides in this fancy manor, afraid of getting sick herself! What kind of doctor is that!” “Why should you rich folks stay safe while we common people die? I don’t care if it’s the Senator’s kid or the President’s kid inside her, I’ll take it for my own child’s sake!” A few inflammatory words whipped the crowd into a frenzy. They lost all reason. Just then, the door was kicked open. My husband, Ethan, entered with several security guards. Seeing him, Chloe scrambled over like he was her last hope, kneeling. “Senator, you’re finally back! They want to take the mistress’s baby! It’s a matter of life and death, please save her!” Olivia instantly changed her tune, looking fragile and pitiful. “Ethan, the blood of a newborn from the Bai family can cure any poison. We’re doing this for everyone in town.” Chloe cried beside her, “Senator, the mistress’s constitution is special! Taking the baby now will kill it!” Ethan’s expression shifted. Just as Chloe thought they were saved, he abruptly raised his hand and asked his men, “Where is the labor-inducing drug I asked you to prepare?” A bowl of dark brown liquid was brought forward. Chloe’s eyes widened in horror as she realized what was happening. She tried to run towards me. Ethan’s guards swiftly intercepted her, grabbing her arms, holding her fast. Ethan held the bowl in front of me, his voice ice-cold. “Drink it.” Looking at his face, my heart shattered, but I clung to a sliver of hope. “Ethan, this is your own child in my belly. Are you truly going to take him out now?” “That’s why I found you the best midwife,” Ethan replied flatly. “I’ve asked around. A seven-month fetus can survive with careful nursing. I will protect him.” “But…” Before I could explain, Ethan lost his patience. He struck me hard across the face. “Sarah, after the evil you’ve done, just having you deliver the baby early is letting you off easy!” The force knocked me to the ground. My head hit a cabinet, ringing. Warm blood trickled down my forehead. Accusations rained down on me from everyone in the room. “Her family have been doctors for generations, how could they produce such a menace!” “So selfish and afraid to die! She’s ruining the Senator’s reputation!” The accusations were sickeningly familiar, dragging me back to my previous life. Me and my son, hung from the town walls. Ethan handed knives to the townspeople, allowing them to slice pieces of my flesh. Those same people who once called me their savior, holding knives in one hand, chili water in the other. The same expressions as they tortured me to death. That terror surged back into my heart. I took a breath and looked at Ethan. “I can drink it. But you have to grant me one request.” My quick agreement seemed to make Ethan frown. “What do you want?” I took the bowl. Before drinking, I stared straight at him. “I want a divorce.” 2 Hearing the word “divorce,” Ethan froze for a second, then sneered, “Is this some new trick?” I was too tired to argue. “If you agree, I’ll drink it now,” I said indifferently. I expected him to agree without hesitation. Instead, he crouched down, grabbed my hair, pinched my jaw open, and forcibly poured the medicine down my throat. The bitter liquid choked me, tears streaming down my face. I suddenly remembered a time I caught a cold because of Ethan and refused to take my medicine. He had paced anxiously beside me, only coaxing me gently, never saying a harsh word. That day, for every bowl I drank, he drank two, telling me with red eyes that he’d never let me suffer again. The man then and the man forcing medicine down my throat now were like two different people. After pouring it all, Ethan smashed the bowl on the floor. “You’re in no position to make demands,” he spat viciously. He left with his guards and Chloe, leaving only Olivia and the midwife in the room. An hour after drinking the medicine, my belly remained quiet. The midwife examined me again and again. “The mistress grew up around herbs and remedies,” she concluded. “She might be resistant to this drug. Should we ask the Senator about giving her another dose?” Olivia shook her head. “We’ve already wasted an hour on this medicine. Trying another type will just waste another hour. Let’s try a simpler method.” She pulled out a dagger. The midwife paled. “Ms. Hayes, you mustn’t! Cutting her open directly could kill her!” “Who cares about her life at a time like this?” Olivia laughed triumphantly. “Is anyone worried about the lives of the townspeople outside?” Seeing the dagger, I panicked too. I scrambled off the bed, trying to run. Olivia ordered the two midwives to hold me down. They pinned me but looked up, asking if they should check with the Senator. “Don’t you understand the Senator’s intention? This baby must come out today.” She approached me with the knife, aiming the tip directly at my belly. As the blade sank in, I screamed, my whole body convulsing. Blood pooled on the floor. The pain was so intense I fainted instantly. Moments later, agony jolted me awake again. Olivia applied more pressure, slicing my belly open from top to bottom. I gasped for breath, pain overwhelming me, tears falling. Outside the door, Ethan asked, “Why is she screaming like that?” Olivia clamped her hand over my mouth. “Childbirth is always painful, Ethan,” she called back. “Please don’t come in. It’s bad luck for a man to be in the delivery room.” Silence fell outside. Olivia roughly pulled my baby out. The baby let out an immediate cry. Hearing that sound, I looked up, my heart clenching inexplicably. Olivia cleaned him off. As she was about to leave, I couldn’t help but plead, “Olivia, after you take the fingertip blood, please bring him back to me.” Olivia snorted coldly and left. I heard her say to Ethan outside, “It’s wonderful, Ethan! The townspeople can be saved!” Outside, Ethan cooed over the baby twice. “Let’s go. We’ll save the townspeople right now.” Everyone left, forgetting about me, still bleeding profusely. The blood flowed faster, the pain intensified. My consciousness faded, and I passed out again. When I woke next, I heard Chloe’s crying. “Mistress, wake up…” Chloe grew up with me, my personal maid who came with me when I married. In the Senator’s manor, she was the kindest person to me besides Ethan. In my past life, she died protecting me and my son, beaten to death. I opened my eyes. Her crying grew more desperate. “Mistress, you’re awake! How do you feel? You lost so much blood…” 3 I forced myself to sit up and told her to get the small box hidden in my cabinet. Inside was a special medicinal pill, a Bai family heirloom. After swallowing it, I felt much of my strength return. I had Chloe bring me a needle and thread, and I stitched up my own abdomen. After doing all this, I used my own blood to write down a prescription and a letter, telling Chloe to deliver them to the Capital. I only learned later that someone infected had fled to the Capital, causing the epidemic to spread there too. Even the Governor and his wife had fallen ill. The cure I developed in my past life, while effective against the epidemic, left patients with chronic headaches as a side effect. But the headaches were treatable. While waiting to give birth, I had shared the treatment method with the local doctors, asking them to help the townspeople. I never imagined this act would be twisted into me seeking fame. They claimed I deliberately left them with the affliction so they would constantly remember my name. The thought chilled me again. My family had practiced medicine for generations, guided by the principle of saving lives. The Bai family name was already renowned. Why would I need to seek fame like that? But people only believe what they want to believe. So later, when someone accused me of poisoning the water, not a single person defended me. The formula I sent to the Governor was an improved version. One dose would cure the illness completely, with no side effects. After Chloe left, exhaustion overwhelmed me, and I fell into a deep sleep. Soon, I developed a fever. In my delirium, I thought I saw Ethan pacing anxiously by my bedside. But I must have been mistaken. He wouldn’t come. He was surely with Olivia, busy “saving” the town. I must have slept for about seven days when a splash of cold water woke me. I opened my eyes to see Olivia standing over me. “While Ethan and I worked tirelessly saving people, you slept soundly.” I lifted my heavy eyelids. “What do you want?” “Came to return your baby, of course.” Olivia smirked wickedly and tossed the bundle in her hands into the air. I screamed, scrambling out of bed, collapsing to the floor as pain flared from my wound. Thankfully, I caught the baby. My son in the bundle had his eyes closed, his face deathly pale, no sign of breath. I took his tiny hand. A deep gash marked his wrist. Dead. He was dead. A roaring filled my ears. My mind went blank. I looked up at Olivia, my eyes filled with hatred. “Didn’t you say you’d only take a little blood?” Because of my family’s constitution, while others carried for nine months, Bai women needed twelve. My seven months were equivalent to someone else’s five. I had hoped if she only took a little fingertip blood, I could still nurse him back to health. But she had drained nearly all the blood from his tiny body. Olivia sneered, “Sarah, you’re a doctor too. How could a tiny bit of fingertip blood possibly save so many people?” Seeing her nonchalance, I glanced down at the lifeless child in my arms and couldn’t hold back any longer. I pulled out the dagger I kept hidden and lunged at Olivia. “Go to hell!” She easily pushed me down, then took the dagger and tapped my face with it, her expression hideous. “Sarah, pathetic as you are, you think you can kill me? Are you…” She stopped mid-sentence, her expression changing dramatically. She twisted her hand, letting the dagger graze her shoulder, making it look like I had stabbed her from behind. “Mistress! Why would you do this?” Before I could react, someone kicked me forcefully. I rolled across the floor, instinctively clutching my dead child tighter. At the same time, a ginseng root landed near me. I recognized it instantly – it looked like rare, potent ginseng. I remembered once telling Ethan that ginseng was the best thing for a mother’s postpartum recovery. Ethan had smiled then. “I’ll definitely send someone to find the best thousand-year ginseng for you. I couldn’t bear for my Sarah to suffer even a little.” Could Ethan have brought this? “Sarah, you venomous woman! How dare you harm Olivia!” Ethan’s furious roar snapped me back to reality. I looked up at him, the last embers of love in my heart extinguished. Strangely, he froze when he saw me. He let go of Olivia in his arms and hurried towards me. Only then did I realize the kick had torn open the stitches on my abdomen. Blood gushed out again, instantly soaking the floor. Ethan’s face was grim as he lifted my clothes. Seeing the horrifying wound, he sucked in a sharp breath. His voice trembled. “Sarah, what happened to your stomach?”

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I spent two weeks learning how to make the perfect chicken soup for Justin King, and he turned around and gave it to his new assistant. That same night, I saw a message from the assistant: “I drank it all! Your girlfriend won’t be mad, right? Before I could even get angry, Justin insisted we break up. As I desperately tried to change his mind, a cold, mechanical voice suddenly echoed in my head. All the memories flooded back instantly. I quickly took a step back, my eyes filled with suspicion as I looked at Justin. “Well then, good riddance!” 1 He picked up the phone, his cool voice on the other end. “Hello? Who’s this?” I stood downstairs from his bustling office building, clutching the thermos, my heart bubbling with excitement. “I made you soup! Remember to buzz me in.” He didn’t answer right away. After a long pause, he just mumbled a soft “Mm.” I ignored the weird silence in between, too caught up in the joy of seeing the guy I loved. The elevator numbers climbed steadily. The reflection in the mirrored walls showed a happy little woman, beaming. Justin’s office door was open. I walked in, practically skipping. “Come try the soup I made! I spent over two weeks learning how.” The words had barely left my mouth when I saw the girl standing nervously by his desk. I stopped talking. “And this is?” Justin kept his eyes glued to the contract on his desk, not even glancing my way. “My new assistant.” I didn’t think much of it and put the thermos down on his desk. “Go on, try it while it’s hot. See my new skills.” The assistant, who hadn’t said a word, timidly looked up. “Maybe I should go, I don’t want to interrupt—” I looked over at her and noticed her eyes were getting misty, like I’d committed some horrible crime. My heart sank. I instinctively looked towards Justin. Just then, Justin looked up, and I saw the impatience clear in his eyes. Before I could even register that, I heard him say, “Wendy, I’m working. Can you head home now?” The smile froze on my face. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, but I quickly pulled myself together. I knew Justin hated being disturbed when he was working. “Okay, I’ll go then. Make sure you finish the soup while it’s hot.” I repeated the reminder, feeling a weight in my chest, then walked out with heavy steps. Halfway down the hall, I realized I’d left my wallet on his desk. Normally, I’d just ask Justin to bring it home after work, but this time, some strange impulse made me turn back. Through the glass door, I saw Justin push the thermos towards the girl he called his new assistant. He was smiling, eyes crinkled, saying something that made the assistant giggle flirtatiously. In that instant, my heart felt like it had plunged into an icy abyss. My body started trembling uncontrollably. I practically ran away. 2 Justin came home late. He’d been coming home late a lot recently. Every night, I’d sit on the sofa waiting for him. Sometimes, exhaustion would win, and I’d curl up and fall asleep right there. The sound of the shower woke me. The living room was pitch black, except for the faint light spilling from the bathroom. The water stopped, and he walked out, a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair slightly damp. Tall and long-legged, water droplets traced paths from his hairline, over his well-defined collarbones, disappearing beneath the towel, adding a layer of raw appeal. I sat on the sofa, just staring at him blankly. How did I ever manage to land such an incredible guy? Wendy Shaw, you are seriously lucky. Justin really was exceptional. Started his own company sophomore year of college, raked in scholarships left and right, and now he was the CEO. The company wasn’t huge, but it was financially stable, miles ahead of most people his age. Justin walked past me, heading straight for the fridge. I knew he was going for ice water. But his stomach issues were pretty bad. I used to stay up late making him hot meals, just so he wouldn’t go hungry and could get his stomach back on track. This time, though, I didn’t stop him like I usually would. The scene from earlier kept replaying in my mind. I couldn’t let it go. “How was the soup I made today? Was it good?” Justin paused mid-sip, seemingly surprised by the sudden question. He turned to face me, a slow smile spreading across his lips. “It was great. Anything Wendy makes is great, of course.” I smiled back, but tears welled up in my eyes. A suffocating feeling clamped down on my chest, making it hard to breathe, my throat raw with pain. Justin, why are you lying to me? He stepped closer, patted my head gently, and said softly, “It’s late, Wendy. Go get some sleep.” He hadn’t noticed anything wrong. Not a single thing. “Oh, right, I put your wallet on the table.” “Honestly, you’re a grown woman, still so forgetful.” I sat there silently in the living room as darkness swallowed me, blanketing my sorrow. In that moment, it felt like I split into two people. One watched everything unfold with cold detachment. The other was utterly heartbroken, desperately urging me to fight for Justin, to hold onto him. I don’t know how long I sat there before I finally forced myself to move, heading towards the bedroom. Justin was already fast asleep. His phone lay on the nightstand nearby. Expressionless, I used his fingerprint to unlock it and opened his messaging app. Right there, catching my eye immediately, were several unread messages. “Thanks for the chicken soup today, boss.” “But… won’t your girlfriend be mad that you gave it to me?” “It’s getting late, you should rest up. Goodnight, boss.” Followed by a cute emoji. I let out a cold sneer and kept scrolling up. “Boss, I’m so scared. What if I mess up this project?” “Don’t worry, I’ll cover for you.” “Boss, you’re the best! Love ya! ” “Mm.” Seeing that, what else was there left to misunderstand? I laughed silently in the dark, tears streaming down my face. “Ugh, this guy is disgusting.” I heard a strange voice echo in my mind. Yeah, he really is disgusting. I mocked my own stupidity. 3 This year marks the fourth year Justin and I have been together. We met in high school during an academic competition and gradually became friends. After graduation, he kept telling me not to leave right away, to wait for him in the park nearby. I did as he asked. And so, on that scorching hot afternoon, the eighteen-year-old boy walked towards me, ears flushed red, holding a single Lisianthus flower. “Wendy Shaw, will you be my girlfriend?” Justin was a good boyfriend. He brought me breakfast, was there for me whenever I needed him, gave me a huge bouquet of Lisianthus every birthday, and showered me with thoughtful, expensive gifts. Almost every anniversary came with a big cake. Senior year of college, my parents died in a car accident, leaving me alone. I sat numbly in the hospital corridor, completely lost. I still remember the sharp smell of antiseptic flooding my senses, almost paralyzing me. It was Justin who took a train for over ten hours to get to me, held me tight, and whispered words of comfort and encouragement over and over. I huddled in his arms, feeling his warmth, sobbing too hard to speak. After the funeral, I carried the two small urns home, feeling completely numb. Justin knelt in front of me, his eyes sincere. I saw my own reflection in them, tiny and fragile. I heard him say, “Wendy, I’ll always be with you. I’ll never let you suffer even the slightest bit.” “From now on, I’m your rock.” “I’ll take care of you, Wendy. Just wait for me.” The emotions I’d suppressed for two weeks finally burst forth. I threw myself into his arms with all my strength, wailing uncontrollably. “Justin, you’re all I have left.” But now… it’s only been a year. Justin, all those promises you made to me… they’re all void now. 4 “Wendy, I’m heading to work. You can sleep in.” In my drowsy state, I felt a warm touch on my forehead. I slowly woke up. “Going so early?” Justin gave a helpless smile, ruffling my hair. “Yeah, gotta work hard to support you, right? I promised my Wendy.” I snuggled against his hand. “Then you have to come home for dinner with me tonight.” “I want to eat out.” Justin playfully tapped my nose. “Okay, deal.” I looked at him, clinging to him like he was my last straw. Justin, if you just come back tonight, if you just show up, I can forgive everything you’ve done wrong. After getting up, I started searching for restaurants, booked one, and shared the location and menu with Justin. “This place looks amazing! Can we eat here tonight?” “Remember to buy me flowers! You know Lisianthus are my favorite.” Lisianthus means sincere, unchanging love. More importantly, every time I saw those flowers, I remembered that hot afternoon four years ago, my boy shyly telling me clumsy sweet nothings. The message went unanswered. My heart sank with it. It’s okay, maybe he’s busy, no time to check his phone. He promised me, he’ll definitely show up in the end. I tried to comfort myself, deceiving myself. When the agreed time arrived, I got all dressed up beautifully and headed to the restaurant. An hour passed. No one came, no messages. Two hours passed. The person I wanted to see still hadn’t appeared. … I called him. No answer. I kept calling, again and again, relentlessly. Finally, on the twelfth call, he picked up. It was incredibly loud on his end – music, the rattle of dice, shrieks, laughter. “Where are you?” “I’m so sorry, Wendy. Something urgent came up here. I can’t make it to dinner.” “What kind of urgent situation?” He hemmed and hawed for a while before finally mumbling, “You know that new assistant I hired? She just landed a huge deal, we’re celebrating with her.” I listened silently, tears dripping onto the table, one by one. “Wendy, you know, she’s really capable. I want to keep her at the company—” I cut him off. “Have fun.” After saying that, without a shred of hesitation, I hung up. “Waiter, bring the food.” I couldn’t taste anything. My tears were flowing uncontrollably now, like a dam had broken, splashing into my bowl. After eating, I hailed a cab to go home, but then I received a friend request notification. I recognized the profile picture from last night. It was the assistant. “Hi Wendy, I’m Tiffany Yan, Justin’s new assistant.” Then she sent a video and a location pin. The video background was dim, looked like a bar or a club. But I couldn’t mistake the main character: Justin. Suddenly, the background noise became a unified chant. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Two figures moved closer and closer, finally pressing together. Just then, the lights suddenly brightened, and I clearly saw the two people locked in a passionate kiss. Who else could it be but Justin and Tiffany Yan? I trembled, finally unable to hold back the nausea rising in my throat. I started dry-heaving. Tears streamed down my cheeks instantly. It felt like a giant hand was squeezing my heart, making me gasp desperately for air. The driver saw my wretched state in the rearview mirror. “Miss, are you alright?” I shook my head, wiping away the tears. “Driver, turn around.”

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The moment Chloe Vance showed up asking me to take her in, I heard a strange voice: 【I can’t believe I actually got reborn back to my high school days. If I get her to adopt me early this time, she’ll definitely give me the company eventually.】 【Old witch, if you don’t give me the company, I’ll make sure you die in another car crash!】 I froze, looking at the pitiful, innocent-looking girl in front of me. My heart sank. Young lady, if what you’re thinking is true, then I won’t be holding back. 1. I was on stage, presenting at my company’s new product launch. Suddenly, the main doors burst open. A girl, dressed deliberately plainly, almost like she was wearing rags, rushed in, dodging the security guards trying to stop her. Weaving through the throng of reporters, she threw herself at my feet, wailing dramatically. “Aunt Eliza, my mother, Brenda Evans… she’s dead! I’m an orphan now! I have nowhere to go!” I was completely baffled. I quickly helped the girl up, trying to understand what was happening. Leaning against me, the girl turned to face all the reporters and spoke first. “My mom was Brenda Evans. She was Eliza Hayes’—Aunt Eliza’s—good friend for many years.” “Right after they finished school, it was my mom who helped Aunt Eliza find her first job, found her a place to live.” “They were around the same age and quickly became best friends, sharing everything.” “Later, Aunt Eliza became successful, started her own company. My mom got married and had me. They drifted apart a bit after that.” After explaining the history to the reporters, the girl turned back to me, her face streaked with tears. “Even though they saw less of each other, my mom never forgot you. She always talked about you.” “Now… she died unexpectedly. I had to bring you to see her one last time, to fulfill her final wish!” Buried memories resurfaced as the girl spoke. I pictured Brenda, strong-willed and determined. The girl who always looked out for me like a little sister… she… she was dead? The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. I started trembling uncontrollably. Clutching this girl, who looked so much like a young Brenda—maybe seventy percent resemblance—my heart ached. “What… what happened? How did your mom die? Where is she now?” “She died in an accident yesterday… She’s in the next city over, in her rented room…” Supporting the girl, I was about to get up, ready to go with her to see her mother one last time. Suddenly, an ethereal, yet eerily familiar voice whispered right beside me. 【Seriously? Is this woman nuts? That corpse is disgusting. Why drag me back there?】 【I came here so you’d adopt me straight away, not take me back to look at a dead body!】 2. My eyes widened in disbelief. I stared straight ahead. The girl was sobbing, looking back at me, her eyes tear-filled, her face flushed. Her mouth wasn’t moving, but that strange, familiar voice continued. 【What are you staring at, old witch? My acting is flawless. You think someone as sharp as you can see through it?】 【If you know what’s good for you, just check me into a five-star hotel and go deal with the body yourself. Stop being a nuisance!】 The voice stopped. The girl’s legs suddenly gave way, and she slumped back onto the floor. “Aunt Eliza… after Mom died… I had to handle everything myself. I’m just… so tired now…” My eyes narrowed. My expression hardened. That ethereal, familiar voice… the girl’s dramatic performance… There was no mistake. That voice was her inner thoughts. Corpse… disgusting… old witch… nuisance. What she said and did on the outside, and what she thought on the inside, were complete opposites! Ignoring her act, I pulled her up firmly and led her out of the conference hall. Speeding towards the neighboring city, I stared out the window. The car was silent. No one spoke, but the voice in my ear was non-stop. 【Why’s the driver going so fast? Trying to race to the afterlife? Guess you miss the feeling of dying in that car crash last time, huh?】 【Seriously, this old witch is impossible to figure out. Suddenly flips like that, treating me like her mortal enemy. What an idiot!】 【Having to put on an act and beg her to adopt me while looking at that sour face… it makes me sick, like I’ve swallowed a fly!】 【But hey, at least I got reborn back to high school. If she adopts me now, builds that bond, the old witch will definitely give me the company later…】 The entire drive, the girl—Chloe—her inner voice chattered on, filling me in on the whole story. Chloe Vance. She had been reborn. 3. In her previous life, Chloe’s father died in a construction accident when she was in middle school. Her mother, Brenda, raised her alone, working odd jobs. But the typical story of a child from a poor family maturing early didn’t happen with Chloe. She exploited Brenda’s guilt over being a single mother, constantly demanding more. Anywhere money was needed, Chloe never held back, never got a part-time job, just held out her hand to Brenda. Even after she started working, she complained her salary wasn’t enough to live on. That woman, Brenda, who had been strong her whole life, never imagined the daughter she depended on would exploit her for her own selfish enjoyment. Working multiple jobs a day, she unconditionally funded her vampire daughter’s vanity and laziness. Finally, Brenda collapsed from exhaustion and illness. At her worst, Brenda called Chloe, asking her to come back, wanting to see her. But Chloe refused. 【Stupid woman. Has her brain gone soft? I’m not a doctor. What good would calling me back do?】 That was the last call Brenda ever made. She died alone from her illness. Days later, her body was discovered by the landlord, who called Chloe to deal with it. Only then did she show up. Reluctantly, she initially planned to just pay someone to cremate the body and be done with it. But while going through Brenda’s belongings, Chloe found my phone number. Checking my profile on social media, she confirmed I was that Eliza Hayes, the moderately famous businesswoman. When Chloe was younger, Brenda had told her stories about escaping her controlling family back home and how her good friend, me, had helped her start a new life. Chloe had always dismissed these as tales of two poor girls helping each other, scoffing at them. But seeing my social media profile, she instantly realized her mother’s “good friend” was me. With this connection established, a new idea sparked in her mind: hold a proper funeral for her mother. It would let her contact me and get close to me, and bonus, she could collect funeral donations. A quick buck for Chloe. At the funeral in the previous life, I showed up. My reaction was the same as when I first saw Chloe moments ago – disbelief and grief. Seeing my old friend again, only to find she was gone, leaving behind a daughter who looked so much like her younger self… Feeling guilty for not reconnecting and helping Brenda after I became successful, I agreed to become Chloe’s godmother, essentially taking her in. 4. 【Old witch. Never married, all alone. Just me as her goddaughter. And she still won’t give me the company right away, saying I don’t have experience. So damn picky!】 【Not just stingy, but meddles in everything! Even who I date! Forced me to break up with my true love. Just jealous I had someone, right?】 【One foot in the grave and still won’t listen. Forced my hand, had to arrange that car accident to kill you! And it got me killed too, dammit!】 【Thank God fate gave me a second chance. This time, just watch me destroy you!】 Her thoughts stopped just as we arrived. The car pulled over. Chloe took a deep breath, adjusted her expression, and turned to me. “Aunt Eliza… I don’t think I can go up. I’m afraid if I see Mom’s body… I won’t be able to stop crying…” She lowered her head, sniffling pitifully. I let out a long, slow breath, releasing the tension in my chest. Glancing sideways at Chloe, I got out and went upstairs. The apartment door was slightly ajar. Pushing it open, a wave of damp, cold air hit me. The room was dim. Sunlight was a luxury in these low-rent apartments, probably cost extra. It wasn’t large, maybe under 300 square feet, crammed with various items, but neatly organized. In this humble setting, Brenda had raised the clean-cut, seemingly refined, but ultimately rotten Chloe. Brenda had given everything she had, but that bottomless pit could never be filled! The room looked like any normal living space; there were no signs of preparations for saying goodbye to the deceased. The only “preparation,” I suspected, was the phony mourning outfit Chloe wore for her act! My mood soured further, my expression growing colder. Taking a few steps to the bedside, I saw a very thin person lying there. Almost skin and bones, her hair already half-gray. Her eyes were closed, her features contorted in pain. She was only in her early forties, yet she looked so withered and worn. And… it looked like she had been in extreme pain when she died. My heart clenched violently. I immediately knelt beside her bed. Suddenly, a timid “Aunt Eliza?” came from behind me, followed by that ethereal voice again. 【Shouldn’t have come up here to put on a show. This old witch is crazy. What’s there to cry about?】 【To suck up to you earlier, I personally pushed her down the stairs. Didn’t feel a thing!】 My pupils dilated instantly. I spun around, glaring at Chloe in utter disbelief. Startled by my stare, Chloe took a frightened step back. Before she could react further, I lunged forward and slapped her hard across the face. Animal! Monster! This isn’t a person, this is a heartless beast! To stoop so low for personal gain, to murder her own mother for advancement! Despicable! The slap was forceful, sending Chloe’s still relatively frail body tumbling backward onto the stairs. The apartment building’s stairs were steep and narrow. She rolled, unable to stop, all the way to the bottom landing. I looked down at her from the top, teeth clenched, nails digging deep into my palms. “From today on, you’ll stay with me. You’ll be my adopted daughter.” You wanted to latch onto me, didn’t you? Fine, I’ll give you that chance! But you better pray, you ungrateful viper, that you’re tough enough to survive it! 5. After arranging Brenda’s funeral, I officially took Chloe in. When she arrived at my house, still recovering with broken bones from her tumble down the stairs, her eyes instantly lit up. 【Doesn’t matter what crazy fit she threw back at the apartment. As long as she adopts me, that’s all that counts!】 【Getting adopted five years earlier this time… this fortune is definitely mine for the taking!】 Listening to her thoughts, watching her greedy expression, I remained outwardly calm. Yours for the taking? We’ll see if you even live through the next five years. Before Chloe’s injuries even fully healed, I arranged for her to transfer schools. Her original high school wasn’t bad; Brenda had worked hard to get her in there. But the school I chose wasn’t about elevating her status. It was about pushing her into a pit of fire. “Ms. Hayes, she’s been enrolled in the junior class at Crestview High, the one notorious for the spoiled, unruly kids from wealthy families,” my assistant confirmed. “She starts tomorrow. Also, arrange for someone to follow her discreetly, live-stream everything to me.” The next day, Chloe was sent off to school. A live feed appeared on my computer. The moment Chloe stepped into the classroom, a few boys with mischievous grins eyed her up and down. Noticing their stares, Chloe paused, then walked straight up to them. “What are you looking at? Bunch of creeps acting like you’ve never seen a girl before. Look again and I’ll gouge your eyes out!” The previously rowdy classroom fell silent instantly. All eyes turned towards them. The boys who had been smirking at Chloe froze, their expressions turning cold. Undeterred by the attention, Chloe seemed to relish it, scanning the room and announcing loudly. “From now on, in this class, everyone revolves around me! Everyone listens to me!” Watching this, I was slightly surprised. I hadn’t expected Chloe to have such an arrogant streak. But then I remembered she was reborn. It made sense. Given her personality, it was entirely plausible she developed this arrogance after I took her in during her previous life. My original plan was just to use her natural tendency to show off to get her taught a lesson. Her providing this level of blatant provocation was an unexpected bonus. Just as I refocused on the screen, things escalated. One boy, clearly unable to stand Chloe’s arrogance, cursed and kicked out at her. Caught completely off guard, Chloe took the kick full force. She stumbled backward, crashing into desks and chairs, sending a cascade of clattering noise through the room. After the kick, the boy advanced, stepping hard on Chloe’s one good hand. “What was that you said just now? My hearing’s not great. Didn’t quite catch it.” Gritting her teeth, Chloe tried to kick his foot off her hand with her good leg. But lying on the ground versus standing tall – the advantage was clear. The moment Chloe moved, the boy reacted instantly, stomping down again. This time, his foot landed squarely on her good leg. A faint cracking sound, barely audible. Chloe’s face immediately contorted in agony. A sharp cry escaped her lips. Shin bones are tough, they don’t break easily, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt like hell. After that stomp, all the arrogance vanished from Chloe’s face. Instead, smiles appeared on the faces of the onlookers. Queen bee? Sorry, kid. Everyone in this class is meaner and more entitled than you.

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Right before I died, my adopted daughter finally showed her true colors. She wasn’t an orphan. She was the biological daughter of my housekeeper and my driver. She pinched my oxygen tube shut, staring down at me with pure disgust. “What’s a lonely old woman like you, with no kids, need all this money for?” “Just hurry up and die already! The money comes to us, and we can finally live the good life!” With all those memories intact, I was reborn. This time, you can tear each other apart. 1. In the private hospital room, my adopted daughter, Ava, glared impatiently at me before complaining to my housekeeper. “Mom, didn’t you tell Dad to arrange for that truck driver to hit her? How is she still alive?” Brenda, my housekeeper, didn’t look too pleased either as she peeled an apple for Ava. “Who knows how she’s so damn tough? Yesterday the doctor said her chances were slim.” “Your Dad’s asking the doctor now what we need to watch out for. Then we just do the opposite.” As they were talking, a man pushed the door open – it was Mike, my driver. Seeing Mike walk in, Ava and Brenda both stood up. One called him “Dad,” the other “Honey.” Lying in the hospital bed, tubes sticking out of me everywhere, I struggled to open my eyes, staring in disbelief at the scene unfolding. What… what was happening? That car crash… wasn’t an accident? And… why was the orphan girl I adopted calling my driver and housekeeper Mom and Dad? Why were my driver and housekeeper, who always claimed to be single, actually married? My sluggish brain couldn’t process it all before Mike walked over to my bedside, looking at the monitors. “Doctor says she’s stable for now, but still critical. We gotta be careful.” “When watching her, pay close attention to keeping her calm, breathing steady, heart rate normal.” He’d barely finished speaking when Ava stepped closer, grabbing my oxygen tube and glaring at me. “Old woman, I was never grateful to you. Taking me in, spending money on me – you owed me that!” Brenda sidled up next to her, putting an arm around Ava intimately, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. “Oh, kids say the darnedest things, don’t mind her. But really, the three of us, we all have you to thank.” “If it wasn’t for you, our own flesh and blood wouldn’t have grown up so pretty and classy.” The three of us, our own flesh and blood… So, everything they were saying now was true. This was all their plan? All this time I thought Ava was an orphan, adopting her… I was just raising their kid for them! But… even if they were a family, why did they want me dead? “Why… why… why hurt me?” Fighting against the searing pain ripping through my body from the crash, I croaked out the words, my voice hoarse. Hearing me, Ava looked at me with utter disgust. “What’s a lonely old woman like you, with no kids, need all this money for?” “Just hurry up and die already! The money comes to us, and we can finally live the good life!” They’d leeched off me after I took her in, and it still wasn’t enough! What they wanted was to kill me, to grab my entire fortune! Ungrateful snakes! Backstabbers! My heart hammered against my ribs like it wanted to break free, fury boiling up inside me. Ignoring the pain wracking my body, I tried to fight back, to scream for help. But Ava saw what I was trying to do. Before I could make a sound, she squeezed harder. The oxygen tube was completely blocked. A crushing feeling of suffocation washed over me. I struggled, trying to rip the mask off, but Brenda pinned my arms down. “What are you fighting for? You’ve had your fancy life for decades. It’s our family’s turn now.” “You’ve got no one, nothing to tie you down. Just die already, stop struggling!” My arms were held fast. The struggling tore at my wounds. The air in my lungs thinned, disappearing bit by bit. Endless pain and despair enveloped me. My vision started to blacken around the edges. I knew I was dying, but I forced my eyes open as wide as I could. I had to memorize these three faces. Even as a ghost, I wouldn’t let them get away with this! 2 My consciousness sank into endless darkness. I don’t know how long passed before, suddenly, everything jolted. A man’s loud, angry voice filled my ears. “Whose kid is this? Squatting in the middle of the road like that? I almost hit her!” Opening my eyes, I found myself sitting in the back seat of the car. Mike was in the driver’s seat. He had his head stuck out the window, yelling at a young-looking girl in front of the car. This scene… it felt so familiar… I’d lived through this before! The first time I met Ava, she was pretending to have a stomach ache, crouched right in the middle of the street. Mike had been driving me home from work. If he hadn’t slammed on the brakes, he would have hit her. Now, it was happening again! Looking at my own younger face reflected in the car window, feeling the realness of my hands and feet, a jolt went through me. I really was reborn. And I’d come back to the exact moment right before I was supposed to adopt Ava! Snapping back to reality, Mike had already gotten out of the car. He was pulling a timid-looking Ava over to the side of the car. “Boss, this kid just popped up out of nowhere, lying in the road.” “Looks like she might not be feeling well. What should we do?” I stared with disgust at the father and daughter in front of me, feeling sick to my stomach. “Is this your first day driving for me? You don’t know what to do?” My sudden sharp tone made both of them flinch, too scared to look me in the eye. Mike looked down at Ava, his hand awkwardly hovering, not sure whether to let go or hold on. I turned my head away, trying to control my rapid breathing, the images from my deathbed flashing before my eyes. I’m back! I have a chance! I can get revenge! I’m going to destroy them! But… how could I make them suffer enough to satisfy this burning hatred? As I thought, the flashing images stopped, freezing on one specific scene: the three of them standing together by my hospital bed, looking like a happy, harmonious family. An idea sparked, and I grabbed onto it. Turning back, I looked at the two outside the car. “Just a young girl, it’s not safe for her to be out here alone at night. Bring her back with us for now.” Mike, who had been looking down, glanced up at me, a flicker of joy crossing his face before disappearing. I saw it all. Joy? I’ll wipe that smile right off your face. 3 At the dinner table, Ava recited the exact same lines as she had in my past life while eating. She was fourteen, an orphan, ran away from the orphanage because she was bullied. My eyes swept over Mike, the driver, and Brenda, the housekeeper, who were lingering, clearly not wanting to leave. I spoke slowly. “How pitiful. Losing your parents so young, left all alone in the world.” As soon as I said it, Ava stopped eating, looking lost. She instinctively turned to look at Mike and Brenda. But their sharp glances stopped her, and she forced herself to turn back around. Pretending not to notice, I continued. “Losing your parents and becoming an orphan is sad, sure. But it’s even worse if they’re alive and just didn’t want you. Now that’s messed up!” “Some parents have no heart. If they don’t like girls, they just dump them. Absolutely shameless!” I paused, a slight smile on my lips, and pressed Ava. “Think hard now. Which kind of orphan are you?” Having been stopped once, Ava didn’t dare turn her head again. Pressured by my question and not knowing how to answer, she lowered her head, avoiding my gaze. Beside her, Brenda tried to step in and help Ava out. “Ma’am, she’s just a kid. Asking her these things… it’s not right!” I let out a short, sharp laugh, then slammed my hand on the table and stood up. “I’m talking to her. When did a housekeeper get the right to interrupt me? Get out!” Brenda’s face instantly turned pale. She quickly lowered her head, mumbled an apology, and backed out of the room. Without even glancing at Brenda, my eyes landed back on Ava. “You’re an orphan, and I don’t have any children of my own. Would you like to stay and be my daughter?” This was exactly what her family wanted. With me offering it outright, of course Ava wouldn’t refuse. Ava nodded eagerly. Nearby, Mike gave Ava a thumbs-up in approval. A smirk played on my lips as I dredged up the twisted ideas I needed to plant in Ava’s head. “Alright, since you’re going to be my daughter, the first lesson I’ll teach you is about knowing your place! There’s a hierarchy.” “We have a housekeeper, a driver, a gardener in this house. You remember this: your status is always above theirs!” This old-fashioned, almost feudal idea was a bit much for Ava to grasp immediately. She looked at me, confused. “When we were talking, that housekeeper interrupted, cut me off. That was wrong. She deserved to be scolded!” “Our position, our status, is higher than the help. They can never interrupt or cut in. Got it?” Although still bewildered, under the force of my presence, Ava finally nodded.

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My mother-in-law was in the hospital. That night, while my husband, Jason, was supposedly watching over her, he reached out and pulled off her oxygen mask. He killed his own mother! I saw the whole thing. I’d just stepped out and came right back, standing just outside the door. Pure terror washed over me. Only one thought screamed in my head: Run! Then Jason’s voice, chillingly cold, came from behind me. “So, you saw.” 1. My heart hammered against my ribs, but I forced my face into a look of confusion. “Saw what? I forgot my house keys, just came back for them. How’s Mom doing?” He didn’t say anything, just stared, his eyes bloodshot, searching my face for any sign I was lying. I walked up, patted his shoulder, trying to sound soothing. “Look at you, your eyes are so red. You must be exhausted. Maybe I should stay tonight instead?” As I finished speaking, I pretended to head towards the hospital room. But Jason blocked my way. “No need. Here are the keys.” I let out a tiny, silent sigh of relief. Then his next words sent ice crawling up my spine. “It’s late. Let me drive you home.” My smile froze for a second, but my brain kicked in fast. “No, Mom needs someone here. You stay with her. I’ll just grab a rideshare.” He looked down, his face hidden in the shadows, his expression unreadable. “Don’t worry,” I added. “The nurse does rounds early tomorrow morning.” He gave a noncommittal “Mm-hmm.” Then, “Send me a pic of the license plate when you get a ride. Just to be safe.” “Okay, don’t worry,” I said. I booked a ride home on my phone. The driver arrived quickly. As I got in, I caught a glimpse of a figure flashing past a window up on the hospital floor. Just as I thought. He was still watching me. I screenshotted the car info and sent it to Jason. He texted back, “Let me know when you’re home.” The night was pitch black. The driver and I rode in heavy silence. As we reached a main intersection, I pulled out a hundred-dollar bill and handed it to the driver. “Hey, can you keep driving past this address? Just hit ‘arrived’ when you get there.” A low voice spoke from the front seat. “Why aren’t you going home?” The driver turned his head. It was Jason’s face! 2. A scream ripped through my throat. I jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat. I was in my pajamas, lying in our master bedroom bed. “You’re awake? Come get some breakfast.” Jason pushed the bedroom door open and pulled back the curtains. Sunlight flooded the room, chasing away the shadows. I stared at his face, unable to tell dream from reality. He chuckled softly and tapped my nose. “Still want to sleep in?” His touch felt real, warm. It was him, the same gentle, doting husband. I sat up and wrapped my arms around his waist. “I had a horrible nightmare. It scared me to death.” He stroked my hair. “It’s okay now. Get up, I’m just going out to grab some groceries.” I quickly stopped him. “Doesn’t Mom need someone watching her at the hospital?” “What are you talking about? Mom’s not in the hospital,” Jason said, squeezing my hand affectionately. “Get up, okay? I’ll be back soon.” I nodded, let go, and gave his cheek a quick kiss. My head felt heavy, fuzzy. Only after Jason left did I slowly drag myself out of bed. In the wedding photo on the nightstand, Jason looked suave and gentle. I was smiling ear-to-ear, pure happiness. Sitting on the edge of the bed, possessed by some strange impulse, I called my mother-in-law. If she was okay, then what I saw at the hospital had to be a nightmare. Truthfully, she and I didn’t have the best relationship. It hit rock bottom after she got rid of my cat. We barely spoke day-to-day. The phone rang for a long time. Just as I was about to hang up, thinking no one would answer, a woman’s voice came on the line. “Hello? Who is this?” I immediately hung up and checked the contact again. It was definitely my mother-in-law’s number. But that voice… it wasn’t my mother-in-law at all! Since my father-in-law passed away, she’d always been a loner, rarely had friends over. But I quickly tried to rationalize. Maybe it was some distant relative I didn’t know about visiting. I dialed again. The same woman’s voice answered. I spoke first this time. “Hi, is my mother-in-law there?” There was a long pause, then her tone turned angry. “Jessica? Why are you calling me? What do you mean, ‘is your mother-in-law there’? Oh, I get it. You’re calling just to piss me off, aren’t you!” My mind went blank for a second. Can someone please tell me what is going on? My mother-in-law is seventy. Her voice is old, sharp, shrill. The voice on the phone sounded young! But how did she recognize my voice and know my name? Ignoring her nasty tone, driven by a huge wave of confusion, I blurted out, “Mom? Are you feeling okay?” “You damn bitch! Are you wishing I was sick? My son must have been blind to pick you! I should have fought tooth and nail against it!” That string of curses, that tone… that was exactly how my mother-in-law always talked. But the voice… how could it be…? 3. Another call came in. It was Jason. My head was throbbing from my mother-in-law’s yelling, so I quickly hung up on her and answered Jason’s call. “Hey, honey. Who were you on the phone with?” “Oh, just checking in on Mom. What’s up?” He chuckled lightly on the other end. “You two are like oil and water. Calling her is just asking for an earful, isn’t it? I was calling to ask what you want to eat. I’ll pick something up.” A wave of warmth spread through me. Jason still cared about me. That’s why, despite years of his mom’s disdain and insults, our relationship was still strong. “Anything’s fine, really. I’m not picky. Get what you like. Stop worrying about me all the time.” He spoke gently for a bit longer, making sure his mom hadn’t given me too hard a time, then reluctantly hung up. So far, everything seemed… normal. But something still felt off. I slowly got up and headed to the bathroom to wash my face. The next second, cold sweat prickled all over my body. Jason was standing right behind me. I hadn’t heard him come in. He was staring intently into my eyes through the mirror. 4. Startled, I spun around, backing up half a step until my back hit the sink. “Jason! When did you get back? You scared me half to death.” His gaze shifted to my face. A smile touched his lips, but it felt unfamiliar, alien. His voice was low, chilling. “Why the sudden urge to call Mom?” “No—no reason. I just dreamt she was sick, so I thought I’d call and see how she was.” He didn’t speak, just kept his eyes locked on mine, scrutinizing every flicker of expression. The small, closed-in bathroom felt suffocating. I dug my nails into my palms, forcing myself to stay calm. I tilted my head up, trying to look casual. “What’s wrong?” After a long moment, he finally stepped back out of the bathroom. “Nothing. Come on, I’m taking you out for lunch today.” The knot of tension in my stomach tightened again. A huge question mark formed in my mind. Ever since I’d known him, we never ate out. I remember once, I was really craving sushi and begged Jason to take me. When his mom found out, she chewed him out, poking his forehead, yelling about him having no self-control, eating garbage from outside. After that, I never dared suggest eating out again. Jason called from the living room, urging me to hurry. I didn’t have time to think. I grabbed the nearest clothes, threw them on, and went out. When we ordered, I told the waiter, “Light on the oil, no spicy peppers, please.” Jason stopped me. “No, it’s fine. Make it regular.” His mom was vehemently against us eating anything spicy or heavy. She usually made steamed or boiled dishes, especially vegetables. It made me wonder if she was Buddhist. She used to boast to me that Jason grew up eating her cooking, which is why he was so healthy and smart, and that our future kids would have to follow her personally approved recipes too. I’d always shake my head and argue that we needed to consider the kids’ tastes, not just force her ideas on them. That led to a huge fight, ending with us not speaking. Her favorite line was: “My son must have been blind to pick you!” 5. My eyes drifted to the dishes in front of Jason – Spicy Beef, Frog Legs with Pickled Chilies. The bright red peppers screamed flavor and heat. I was about to swap my plain stir-fried bok choy for his dish when he pressed my hand down. I watched as he picked up several pieces of beef coated in thick Sichuan peppercorns and chili oil, and ate them without batting an eye. “Jason, you…” “Got tired of bland food. Time for a change now and then.” Watching him shovel down spicy food, remembering the nightmare version of him, a chill ran down my spine. Something about Jason felt… different. I shook my head slightly. “If Mom finds out about this,” I whispered, “she’ll say I’m corrupting you again.” His chopsticks paused mid-air. Then he resumed eating, stuffing beef into his mouth. His face flushed slightly from the spice, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. I quickly handed him a glass of water. “When I called earlier, Mom’s voice sounded weird. Since it’s the weekend, maybe we should go visit her?” That strange woman’s voice still echoed in my head. “Visit her? So we can fight again?” Jason took a sip of water and rubbed his temples. “I have things to do this afternoon. Maybe another day.” “Okay…” I noticed a drop of chili oil on his shirt, bright red and shiny. I grabbed a napkin to wipe it. “Look at you, getting food all over your shirt.” He was always so neat, never allowing a single speck of dirt on his clothes. I dabbed at it uselessly. “See? That’s what happens when you eat spicy food, oil drips everywhere. I’ll wash it for you when we get home,” I said helplessly. He stared down at the stain, lost in thought. After lunch, he went off to run his errands, and I started walking home slowly by myself. As I reached the corner, the image of his mom having her oxygen mask removed flashed through my mind. My heart pounded. Thinking it over, I still felt uneasy. I decided to grab a cab and head over to his mom’s place. 6. The cab stopped at the entrance to the alley. I paid and got out, planning to buy some fruit and milk at the corner store. Old Mrs. Henderson at the store saw me arrive alone and looked puzzled, peering behind me. “Coming to see your mother-in-law? Jason didn’t come with you?” I picked through the bananas. “Oh, he had something to do. Are these fresh?” “Fresh as can be, just came in this morning.” Mrs. Henderson sat back down and went back to cracking sunflower seeds. “You know, that Carol really lucked out. Husband died early, but she raised a good son. Nobody around here has a son as filial and obedient as hers.” I managed a small smile, taking the bananas to be weighed, then picked out some apples. Mrs. Henderson put down her seeds to weigh the fruit. “They’ve been through a lot together, just the two of them, all these years. Their bond is really strong. Carol told me Jason used to call her for two hours every single day back in college. Sigh, not like my kids. Wild horses couldn’t drag them home. A call every ten days or half a month is a miracle.” “Well, Mrs. H, everyone’s got their own treasures, right?” I smiled, paid, and picked up my bags. It wasn’t just college. Jason and I had been married for three years, and he still kept up that habit of calling his mom every day, rain or shine, for exactly two hours. Mrs. Henderson followed me to the door. “Oh, Jason’s wife, one more thing! Remind your mother-in-law about the line dancing meet-up this afternoon. She’s so proud, sometimes she needs coaxing.” I chuckled inwardly. Mrs. Henderson seriously overestimated my influence with my mother-in-law. “Sure, I’ll try.” Kids were playing noisily in the alley. One boy wasn’t looking and ran right into me. His mom saw it and yelled, “Mikey! Watch where you’re going! What if that had been Mrs. Evans? You think you could get away with running wild then?” I freed a hand to pat the boy’s head. “It’s okay, kids are just playing.” My mother-in-law was eccentric and proud. Most neighbors avoided interacting with her, and she, in turn, looked down on everyone. There were very few people in the world she actually respected. According to her, me marrying Jason was the result of my ancestors burning incense for eighteen generations. Even though we met through an arranged setup, and she was the one who chose me. Even though my education, looks, and family background were better than Jason’s, it didn’t stop her from disliking me. Lifestyle, eating habits, even ways of thinking – nothing could clash with hers. If it did, she’d condemn you to hell and unleash a torrent of verbal abuse. I often counted my blessings that I was just the daughter-in-law. Growing up under her thumb must have been incredibly tough for Jason.

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As graduation approached and it was time to settle the cohort dues, I stared at the message in the group chat: [Cohort Fund Balance: $368.60] I fell into a deep silence. Since freshman year, all fifty of us in the business cohort had paid $500 annually in chapter dues. We even bought our own textbooks out of pocket. How could there be almost nothing left? Liam, our Cohort President, sent another message: [We would never embezzle the cohort funds. Every single transaction is recorded.] But a few seconds later, he unsent it. Everyone in the chat started shouting, demanding to see the ledger. That was when my roommate, Chloe—our VP of Academics—started to panic. 1 I was just about to lie down for a nap. A notification popped up in our cohort’s GroupMe: [Cohort Fund Balance: $368.60] All the sleepiness vanished from my body. I jumped out of bed. I stared hard at the screen, analyzing those three digits, the decimal, and the change, completely lost in thought. We had been paying these dues since freshman year. Four years, $500 a person, fifty students in the cohort. That was $100,000 total. Even our daily class materials and textbooks were bought with our own money. How on earth was there only three hundred bucks left? Immediately, classmates began raising questions, asking Liam if his math was wrong. Liam sent another message: [We would never embezzle the cohort funds. Every single transaction is recorded.] Some fast-typing classmates immediately tagged him, demanding to see the expense sheet. A minute later, the screen showed: Liam unsent a message. At first, I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking he really had just miscalculated the total. I was already daydreaming about how to spend my cut of the massive refund. But then I looked closer. Liam hadn’t unsent the balance. He had unsent the second message. Meaning, after four years and $100,000, our collective fund really was sitting at a pathetic $368.60. The group chat absolutely exploded. 2 Noah, the designated chatterbox of our cohort, was the first to tag the President. [Liam, how did you get $368.60? Did you put the decimal in the wrong place?] [Stop trolling us, man! Everyone’s waiting for that refund so we can be rich for a week!] Other classmates chimed in: [Even with a misplaced decimal, it should be way more than that, right?] Noah then led the charge, demanding to see the official ledger for the cohort’s expenses. Back when we first collected the dues freshman year, Advisor Davis had sworn to us: “The use of the cohort funds will be entirely public and transparent.” She handed full control of the money over to us students. To ensure everything was tracked, she even made Liam open a specific, separate bank account just for the cohort dues. It was supposed to keep the money safe, leave a paper trail, and allow for quick audits. So Noah’s request to see the ledger wasn’t out of line at all. It was perfectly reasonable. I chimed in and sent: [I want to see the ledger too +1.] Liam quickly replied: [Still organizing the spreadsheet. Please wait.] Didn’t they say we could check the accounts at any time? Besides, he had already announced the $368.60 balance, which meant he had obviously already run the numbers. I glanced over and noticed my roommate, Chloe—the VP of Academics and Liam’s girlfriend—sitting at her desk with her brows knitted tightly together. I patted her shoulder. “Chloe, there’s no way our fund only has three hundred bucks left. Don’t stress. Your boyfriend probably just made a spreadsheet error. He just needs to clarify it with everyone.” She hesitated for a second before forcing a smile. “Yeah, exactly.” But I could see the panic in her eyes growing stronger. An hour passed. Liam still hadn’t posted the itemized ledger. I sent a message to the group: [Liam, is the itemized list ready yet?] The very next second, I was hit with a one-hour mute from the group admin. Seeing the mute notification, Chloe walked over to me and defended her boyfriend. “Emma, Liam has a lot on his plate managing the cohort. Don’t push him so hard. It disrupts his ability to serve the students.” I mentally gave her a standing ovation for her breathtaking double standards. When Chloe and Liam got into a fight a few months ago, she stayed up until 2 AM loudly arguing with him on the phone for three hours straight. The entire dorm couldn’t sleep. As her roommate, all I could do was comfort her and try to calm her down. The next day, when they made up, Liam somehow blamed me for their argument. Then there was the group project incident. We were less than an hour away from the Canvas submission deadline. Our entire dorm group was just waiting on Chloe to finish her section. I urged her to hurry up. Instead, she snapped at me: “I’m the VP of Academics! I’m close with the professor. It doesn’t matter if we submit it a little late.” The rest of us sat in stunned silence as she spent an entire hour doing a full face of flawless makeup at her vanity. Then we watched her leave the dorm looking gorgeous to go on a date with Liam. The result? We missed the submission window. Our group got a flat zero. But Chloe? She used her administrative access to adjust the peer-evaluation scores, secretly giving herself maximum participation points. She ended up passing the class with flying colors. The three of us took the zero, but since we had high grades otherwise, we didn’t fail the course. Since she was our roommate, we swallowed our anger and didn’t report her. And now, I simply asked a question in the group chat… And I was branded as “disrupting the busy President from serving the students.” What a joke. 3 Three hours later, Liam finally sent a few pictures to the group. It was a piece of notebook paper covered in chicken scratch, listing the total expenses over the last four years. The chat lit up immediately: [I knew it! It was just a math error. There’s no way Liam would embezzle our money.] [Exactly. We paid $100,000 total. There’s no universe where only $300 is left.] But then, Noah cropped the bottom of Liam’s photo and sent it to the chat: [Remaining Balance: $386.60.] So after three hours of “auditing,” the balance hadn’t gone up a single cent? Chloe, acting as the loyal girlfriend and VP, immediately turned on the “Admin Only” messaging restriction. She sent a long paragraph: [Every penny is accounted for. We would never steal from our classmates. If you want to see the detailed itemized spreadsheet, DM me privately.] Me: ? So those scribbled photos posted in the chat were just the “rough draft”? This couple really had a system going. The guy posts a messy, illegible handwritten note, while the girl hoards the actual detailed spreadsheet. If they ever broke up, handing over the cohort documents would require an escrow service. I DMed Chloe: [Can you send me a copy of the detailed ledger?] She turned around, smiling sweetly, and linked her arm through mine. “Of course! Sending it now. Perks of being roommates, right? Our dorm always gets the inside scoop first.” Huh? I sat in silence. A moment later, a file popped up in our dorm’s private group chat. This “detailed” ledger didn’t clarify Liam’s messy notes at all. In fact, it was stuffed with bizarre, inexplicable charges. Even Mia, the roommate who usually got along best with Chloe, gasped out loud. “What?! $20,000 for the Spring Gala props?! Were they made of solid gold?” “Wait, why is there a $2,500 charge for the Business Ethics Certification Exam for 50 people? Half of us never even registered for that!” Chloe’s face shifted. She forced a laugh and quickly explained: “Those categories also include Advisor Davis’s travel stipends and catering costs. I just bundled them together to make the math easier.” I was even more stunned. Advisor Davis needed our cohort funds for her personal travel? Bundled for convenience? Since when is accounting done by mashing random expenses together? Since dozens of classmates were furious and demanding the detailed list, I simply downloaded the spreadsheet and forwarded it directly into the main cohort GroupMe. Chloe glared at me, her voice dripping with annoyance. “Why did you put that in the main chat?” I replied casually, “Everyone wanted to see it. You and Liam are so incredibly busy serving the students, I figured I’d help lighten your workload.” Since freshman year, Chloe had always tried to “buy” our loyalty with petty favors. She’d give us a heads-up on pop quizzes or casually delay telling the rest of the cohort about lucrative internship opportunities so we could apply first. Through shady tactics like that, she wiped out half her academic competition. Her title as “VP of Academics” was nothing more than a tool for personal profit. Three minutes later, Noah broke the silence in the group chat. 4 [Wait, the CPR Certification fee is $50. $50 times 50 people is $2,500. Why is this charged to the cohort fund?] [Didn’t we all Venmo the Treasurer separately out of our own pockets for that exam?] As soon as Noah pointed it out, other classmates started posting screenshots of their old Venmo transactions. The chat was instantly flooded with payment receipts. [Yeah! I literally Venmoed Liam directly for this. Why is it being deducted from the communal fund again?] Liam hurried to do damage control: [It was a long time ago. It might be a clerical error. We definitely spent that money, I just might have logged it under the wrong category name.] A wall of question marks materialized in the chat. [Insert meme of confused old man looking at his phone.] I typed: [So you double-charged us?] Liam deleted my message at lightning speed. He was so fast I genuinely wondered if my Wi-Fi had glitched. Liam rapidly started typing out new, fabricated expense categories to cover the gaps. Everyone was stressed with graduation right around the corner. The only reason people were even active in the chat was because of the refund money. To a broke college senior, getting back a slice of a $100,000 pie is life-changing money. Noah then dropped a screen-recorded video of himself doing a line-by-line audit of the spreadsheet. In the video, he said: “There’s a flat $5,000 withdrawal here with no receipt, and a $1,212 ‘tech fee’ that literally makes no sense.” Someone else asked: [If the math is this bad, where did all the missing money actually go?] The uproar grew deafening. In just ten minutes, the chat hit 999+ notifications. Liam finally sent one ominous message: [Noah, DM me right now.] 5 Gradually, the group chat fell silent. When I came back from grabbing lunch, Chloe was hunched over her desk, furiously writing. I looked closer. She was manually recalculating the cohort funds. Didn’t she say the math was already finalized? Why was she crossing things out with white-out? Then I witnessed a masterclass in fraud—she quietly deleted the $1,212 tech fee. Then she added $602 to “Tailgate Supplies.” And bumped up the “Spring Gala” budget by another $610. I watched her operate in pure awe. She was a prodigy at cooking the books! Noticing me, she smiled smoothly and explained: “There were a few minor discrepancies earlier. But it’s all fixed now! The ledger is perfectly balanced, every penny matches up.” “As long as it balances,” I replied flatly. “Everyone is just waiting for the final, accurate version.” I opened GroupMe. Strangely, Noah—our resident chatterbox—had completely vanished from the conversation. The chat had returned to its usual dead silence. Later that afternoon, I bumped into Noah on campus. I stopped him and asked: “Why so quiet all of a sudden?” He laughed awkwardly, lowering his voice. “You know how it is. Graduation is coming up. Too busy. No time to check group chats.” Was that the truth? I walked with him to the dining hall and we sat in a quiet corner. I whispered, “Did Liam threaten you? “If he did, just nod.” Noah shook his head aggressively like a rattle. Then, he gave two very heavy, deliberate nods. He didn’t want to get into the details, and I didn’t press him. It was exactly on-brand for that toxic power couple. Back in our junior year, Liam and Chloe had entered a National Business Case Competition. A classmate discovered they had blatantly plagiarized their winning presentation. At the end of the semester, Liam and Chloe used their authority to tank that classmate’s peer-review scores to the absolute minimum. The poor guy was forced to retake the entire course. If you can’t solve the problem, just eliminate the person pointing it out. Before leaving, Noah looked deeply conflicted. “Emma, just let it go. We’re about to graduate. He’s the President, his girlfriend is the VP. It’s not worth the fight.” I nodded and waved goodbye. When I opened TikTok later, a familiar image popped up on my For You page. Someone had leaked our cohort’s spreadsheet! The creator captioned it: [This is my college cohort’s expense ledger. Can you guys help me spot the red flags?] There were already hundreds of comments. The internet sleuths immediately tore the ledger apart. Everyone agreed the remaining balance was completely fabricated and the missing funds had to be massive. By the time I got back to my dorm, the video had been taken down for “violating community guidelines.” I had to marvel at Liam’s speed. He worked fast. Behind me, Chloe was texting so fast her thumbs were a blur. “Chloe, who are you talking to?” I asked. She glanced over her shoulder. “Just my mom. Talking about graduation stuff.” But the profile picture on her screen was unmistakably Liam’s. I took a screenshot of the deleted TikTok post and dropped it into the group chat. Less than five minutes later, Liam privately messaged me, demanding I come downstairs for a “talk.” I found a furious Liam waiting outside the dorm building. “Emma, how could you post internal cohort documents on the internet? “Delete it immediately. If you have a problem, you bring it to me directly.” I pulled out my phone and played an audio comment someone had left on the video: “Why is there a $6,000 catering fee for five people? Did they eat gold-leaf steaks at a diner…” Before the audio finished, Liam snatched the phone out of my hand and started furiously tapping my screen. He used so much force he nearly knocked me over. I rubbed my bruised arm as he stepped back, creating distance between us. After ensuring the post was deleted from my phone, he reluctantly handed it back. His eyes were dark and menacing as he lowered his voice: “You really need to stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. You wouldn’t want anything to happen to your diploma in June, would you?” 6 A smart woman knows when not to fight a losing battle. I took my phone, muttered a quick goodbye, and walked away. What he didn’t realize was that his little physical altercation had been captured in crisp HD by the dorm’s security cameras. When I got back to the room, Chloe saw my slightly shaken expression and immediately handed me a Starbucks iced latte, playing the sweet peacemaker. “Emma, my boyfriend has a terrible temper, but he doesn’t mean any harm. Just ignore him.” With everyone swamped with graduation prep, the chatter about the refunds began to fade. The topic even shifted completely when someone in the chat started congratulating Liam and Chloe for surviving four years of college as a couple. People were praising them as the “perfect campus sweethearts.” The legendary romance between the President and the VP started all the way back in our freshman year. Back then, Chloe had caught a lot of attention for her flawless makeup and trendy outfits. Liam, as President, was assigned to hand-deliver some administrative paperwork with her. After a few trips to the Dean’s office together, they grew close. One sunny afternoon, Chloe returned to the dorm looking incredibly flushed and giddy. She squealed, announcing they were officially dating. From that day on, our dorm became ground zero for all her relationship drama and complaining. But that wasn’t even the worst part. During our sophomore year, there was a notoriously strict Ethics professor who called roll personally. When he called Liam’s name, the class murmured that he wasn’t there. The professor sighed and asked the VP of Academics to take over roll call. The class erupted into laughter. They informed the professor that the VP wasn’t there either. Just as the professor was getting confused, someone shouted: “The President took the VP out for bottomless brunch!” The professor nodded and marked them absent. This professor was infamous for failing students over attendance. We all thought Liam and Chloe were doomed. Then, a miracle happened. At the end of the semester, both of them had perfect attendance scores, and their final grades were a sparkling ‘A’. The dark magic behind that grade change was an open secret. After they started dating, Chloe ditched her “girl-next-door” aesthetic entirely. She rebranded as a hypebeast fashionista. Prada bags, limited-edition Dior lipsticks, rare designer perfumes—you name it, she had it. Where did the missing cohort funds go? Looking back now, her sudden influx of wealth that completely mismatched her actual financial background definitely had something to do with our missing money. 7 A few days later, Advisor Davis finally spoke up in the group chat: [The cohort funds are entirely student-managed. Please direct all refund inquiries to Liam.] I instantly typed: [Professor Davis, could we get a PDF of the actual bank statements for the cohort’s debit account?] Dozens of classmates immediately echoed the request. Advisor Davis replied: [Liam, please upload the statements for the students.] Liam immediately sent me a threatening DM, telling me to remember what he said outside the dorm. After all, the last guy he threatened (Noah) had been silenced completely. But I had put up with them for four years. Now, they were playing dumb with our money. This time, I wasn’t backing down. What was wrong with defending the money I paid out of my own pocket? Under pressure from the Advisor, Liam reluctantly uploaded screenshots of the bank statements to the group. The statements clearly showed the exact timestamps of every massive withdrawal. Some eagle-eyed classmates quickly realized that the dates of the massive expenditures perfectly aligned with the exact days Chloe showed up to class flaunting new designer items. The chat exploded into a forensic investigation: [Wait, that May 20th withdrawal for $4,820… isn’t that the exact retail price of that Chanel bag in this pic? attaches photo] [Hold up, what about that $3,700 charge? Didn’t Liam start wearing those limited-edition Dior sneakers the very next week?] The horrifying truth dawned on everyone: Liam had been using our cohort’s bank account as his personal debit card! Everyone finally knew exactly where the $100,000 went. [Liam, are you gonna say something?!] [You were our President for four years! Explain yourself, we still want to give you the benefit of the doubt!] Seeing the outrage, Advisor Davis ordered Liam to give the cohort a proper explanation. Liam went radio silent. Meanwhile, back in the dorm, Chloe’s face was ashen. She was frantically shoving her designer bags into the deepest corners of her closet. Clearly, the internet detectives had hit the nail on the head. She looked at me in a pure panic, stammering: “D-don’t get the wrong idea! I bought these bags with my own money! It has nothing to do with Liam!” I gave her a slow, deliberate nod. “Oh.” I hadn’t asked a single question, yet she had essentially confessed to everything. The uproar in the group chat reached a boiling point. Chloe quickly fired off a message to the group: [We are currently verifying every single transaction. If there are any mistakes, we will refund the missing amounts out of our own pockets!] I was actually looking forward to seeing what kind of creative accounting this Bonnie and Clyde duo would attempt next. 8 Surprisingly, two days later, Chloe wasn’t panicking at all. She was lounging on her bed, casually scrolling through TikTok. Meanwhile, I noticed two expensive bottles of perfume sitting on my desk that definitely didn’t belong to me. As I stared at them in confusion, I saw Chloe actively typing into the shared Google Doc ledger: [Emma’s Spring Gala Perfume Expense: $250.] While I was processing that, I glanced over and saw several performance outfits draped over Mia’s chair. They were the exact same outfits Chloe had worn during the sports festival last year. Seeing that Mia and our other roommate had returned, Chloe locked the dorm door and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper: “Guys, the ledger is a little messy right now. Since we’re roommates, I need a favor. Just claim these items as your expenses. “You guys can keep the stuff as a gift.” Mia and I exchanged bewildered looks. When they were living large, we didn’t see a dime. Now that the feds were closing in, we were supposed to be accomplices? She was trying to drag the entire dorm down with her to muddy the waters! “Chloe, I don’t think this is a good idea. We never used this stuff. Giving it to us now doesn’t change anything,” Mia said hesitantly. Chloe practically shoved the clothes into Mia’s arms. “It’s fine, just do me this favor! If you see anything else you like in my closet, just take it.” The other roommate eventually caved and agreed to follow her “arrangement.” When Chloe turned to me, trying to pin a $2,000 fraudulent expense on my name, I held my hands up and backed away. “Leave me out of this. I don’t know anything about it.” Hearing this, Chloe’s face twisted in fury. She pointed a manicured finger right at my nose and screamed: “I’ve been your roommate for four years! Do you have any idea how many perks you got because of me? Now that we hit a little bump in the road, you won’t even help out? “How can you be so selfish?! Do you really want to make things ugly right before graduation?” I was genuinely stunned by her sheer delusion. Did she actually think that pinning fake expenses on her roommates would convince the rest of the cohort? Did she think that legally absolved her of stealing $100,000? In her twisted mind, I was the ungrateful villain. It was laughable. I slammed my hand onto my desk, making sure everyone in the room could hear me loud and clear. “What perks?! You waking me up at 2 AM with your screaming matches? “Or how about when you begged me to buy you breakfast, then changed your mind, leaving me to pay for two meals? “Or was the ‘perk’ when you refused to do your part of the group project, earning me the only flat zero of my college career?!” Having her hypocritical mask ripped off, Chloe’s face turned beet red with rage. We didn’t speak another word to each other. Later, while walking out of the campus gates, I spotted Liam. Driven by curiosity, I glanced in his direction—and witnessed something explosive. The girl he was holding hands and laughing with was not Chloe! The cohort’s legendary “campus sweethearts” were officially a sham.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391837”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My boyfriend’s roommate suffered a traumatic brain injury in a car accident and developed a severe case of identity dysmorphia. He spends his days staring into the mirror, calling himself “Arthur.” But Arthur is my boyfriend’s name. He genuinely believes he is Arthur, which means he also believes I am his girlfriend, and he constantly sends me highly inappropriate messages. I awkwardly showed my boyfriend a shirtless mirror selfie his roommate just sent me. But he just begged me to endure it a little longer: “Julian only got into that accident because of me. I can’t afford the legal settlement if his family sues. Just play along and humor him for me, please?” Later, separated only by a single door. Enduring it became incredibly difficult. Even my muffled cries were completely shattered by Julian. 1 Waiting outside the emergency room with Arthur, his hands were ice-cold with fear. He kept muttering frantically under his breath: “I didn’t mean to, I swear. I was just replying to a text…” I didn’t catch everything he said, but I tried my best to comfort him: “I heard the injuries aren’t life-threatening. Don’t worry, if there’s a financial settlement, I’ll help you figure it out.” However, my words did absolutely nothing to calm Arthur down. It wasn’t until the surgery was over and his roommate finally opened his eyes in the recovery room. Arthur snapped out of his daze and sprinted to the bedside. “Julian! You’re awake!” “Thank God you’re okay!” But Julian’s reaction was incredibly bizarre. He frowned, tilting his head as he scrutinized my boyfriend. After a long, tense silence, he finally spoke, his voice dripping with an oppressive, chilling authority: “Who are you?” My boyfriend froze in shock: “Me? I’m your roommate, Arthur.” A cold, uncanny smile spread across Julian’s face. His eyes flashed with pure mockery: “Where did this pathetic imposter come from?” “I am Arthur.” 2 According to the doctors, Arthur’s—or rather, Julian’s—condition was incredibly complicated. During the crash, Julian was in the passenger seat and suffered severe head trauma. Because Arthur, sitting in the driver’s seat, was the last person Julian interacted with before losing consciousness… Upon waking up, Julian developed a profound, catastrophic cognitive dissonance. Julian genuinely believed he was Arthur. Because they were close roommates, Julian knew everything about Arthur’s life. As a result, Julian started speaking with Arthur’s exact cadence and mannerisms. He transformed from his naturally aloof, introverted self into someone highly talkative and outgoing. He perfectly internalized Arthur’s zodiac sign, his birthday, and even his entire social circle. Arthur frantically asked the doctors when Julian would recover. The doctors admitted there was no immediate medical solution. The best course of action was to discharge him and let him reintegrate into a normal routine. Hopefully, his self-awareness would eventually reboot, and he’d remember his true identity. But days turned into weeks. Julian showed absolutely zero signs of improvement; if anything, his behavior became even more extreme. 3 My final class before winter break ended. I stood outside the boys’ dorms, waiting for Arthur. The winter snow fell heavily, slipping down my collar and making me shiver violently. Suddenly, a pair of large hands wrapped a black-and-white checkered scarf snugly around my neck. A familiar scent washed over me. It was the crisp, cedarwood cologne I had specifically picked out for Arthur. “Arthur?” My heart leapt with joy. Before I could turn around, he wrapped his arms around me from behind, pulling me completely into his embrace. His hot breath ghosted across my ear, standing impossibly close, sending a shiver down my spine. His long arms wrapped around my waist, his fingers intertwining with mine. The heat radiating from his palms felt like it was seeping straight into my heart. “Sorry to keep you waiting.” “Why are your hands so cold?” That voice… that wasn’t Arthur. I froze completely. Looking up, I saw Arthur practically sprinting down the dorm steps. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw us, his face turning an ugly shade of green. “Julian, why the fuck are you hugging my girlfriend?!” 4 Starting that day, Julian began relentlessly texting me. At first, it was just mundane, everyday updates. Nothing too crazy. I completely ignored him. I assumed that if I gave him the silent treatment long enough, he’d eventually get bored and stop. But Julian only escalated. I awkwardly handed my phone to Arthur. The illuminated screen displayed a blatant, post-shower selfie of Julian’s perfectly sculpted abs. Even though his face was cropped out, the distinctive flame tattoo on his forearm made it undeniably clear who it was. “This is getting out of hand. I’m really uncomfortable with this.” Arthur let out a heavy sigh. “Mia, please, listen to me.” “I know how insane this is, but I talked to a lawyer the other day. If the Thorne family decides to pursue legal action, I’m going to owe a catastrophic amount of money.” “I was the one driving when the crash happened. The Thorne family is insanely wealthy and powerful; I literally cannot afford to piss Julian off.” Arthur hesitated for a second before continuing: “Could you just… play along for a little bit? If Julian recovers quickly, he probably won’t press charges against me.” I was absolutely floored by Arthur’s suggestion. “Are you out of your mind?!” He looked at me with pathetic, puppy-dog eyes: “Mia, I’m begging you.” “Didn’t you tell me the other day that you’d help me figure this out?” “But…” I desperately tried to reason with him. “Look, Julian doesn’t have a girlfriend. I’m sure he just wants someone to talk to; he won’t do anything crazy.” “Besides, if Julian actually tries anything inappropriate, I am your actual boyfriend! I’ll be the first one to step in and beat the shit out of him!” He leaned in and gave me a quick kiss. “You’re the best, Mia.” As he spoke, Arthur actively unblocked Julian’s contact on my phone. 5 That evening, I was supposed to video chat with Arthur. I was lying on my stomach in bed, wearing a simple nightgown, and dialed his number. “Hey, Mia.” On the other end of the screen, Arthur was aggressively mashing his keyboard, deep into a video game. His eyes were glued entirely to his monitor. But I couldn’t ignore the intense, piercing gaze shooting toward me from right behind Arthur’s shoulder. Julian was leaning casually against a wardrobe, staring at me with freezing, predatory eyes. A bizarre, deeply uncomfortable feeling washed over me. I’m literally talking to my actual boyfriend, why does it feel like I’m being caught cheating?! “Arthur, could you pause your game for a second…” Arthur turned around. He saw Julian pick up his phone, yank off his headset, and yell: “You guys talk, my match just started.” Before turning back to his game, Arthur actually had the audacity to wink at me. I glared angrily, my eyes locking with Julian’s. Those dark, abyssal eyes were staring straight through me. My face flushed bright red. I instinctively yanked the neckline of my nightgown higher and blurted out: “I am not your…” I swallowed the word “girlfriend” before it could escape. I remembered Arthur’s pathetic pleading. I had no choice but to suppress the intense disgust and awkwardness I felt. Julian retracted his gaze and adjusted the phone’s camera angle. “You blocked me, but you’re video chatting with my roommate.” “Why are you avoiding me?” Why am I avoiding you?! Because I am literally not your girlfriend! “I’m not avoiding you. I just… had something to ask your roommate.” I sighed helplessly, realizing this was the perfect opportunity to express my boundaries. “Also, could you please stop sending me those kinds of pictures?” “What kind?” Julian raised an eyebrow. “The ab pictures… and the ones where you aren’t wearing…” My face was burning. “Just stop!” “Fine.” This time, Julian agreed shockingly fast. But he immediately laid out a new condition. “Ever since I was discharged, you haven’t come to see me once.” “If I don’t send those pictures to bait you, you wouldn’t even talk to me, would you?” My ears burned even hotter. This was getting completely out of hand. I was forced to bite the bullet and continue pacifying him: “As long as you promise not to send inappropriate pictures, I promise I’ll keep talking to you.” “And… I’ll come see you.” “Then how about tonight?” Julian’s gaze flicked casually toward Arthur. Arthur was completely absorbed in his game, acting like a braindead dog, aggressively fighting a boss battle. He had absolutely zero idea what kind of predatory, borderline-insane things his usually aloof roommate was saying to his girlfriend. 6 It was almost time to meet Julian. I had sent Arthur multiple texts and called him several times, but got absolutely no response. With no other options, I had to go to the meetup alone. Julian’s car was parked directly beneath my dorm building. Being confined in such a small space with him was incredibly suffocating and awkward. Julian, on the other hand, looked perfectly relaxed. He was wearing a black turtleneck sweater—another exact copy of Arthur’s wardrobe—looking incredibly sharp and poised, showing absolutely no signs of being a recently discharged trauma patient. Watching how smoothly and flawlessly Julian drove, I couldn’t help but feel suspicious. If he has a traumatic brain injury and amnesia, how is he driving this perfectly?! It was bizarre. While stopped at a red light, Julian suddenly turned to look at me. “What’s wrong?” His intense stare gave me goosebumps. Beneath his dark eyes, there were churning, predatory undercurrents that felt like they were trying to swallow me whole. Julian didn’t answer. He suddenly leaned completely over the center console, reaching toward the side of my face. I instinctively flinched backward. My palms were sweating profusely. But he was just reaching over to buckle my seatbelt for me. I had absolutely no idea that his gaze had briefly, intentionally locked onto someone standing right behind the car. Outside the window. Arthur, arm-in-arm with a younger girl, was standing frozen on the crosswalk, his jaw practically on the pavement, watching everything happening inside the car. 7 The car pulled into the driveway of a luxurious, multi-story townhouse in the suburbs. This was Julian’s home. “Thirsty?” Seeing me hovering awkwardly in the entryway, Julian offered me a bottle of coconut water. “No, I…” I was just about to invent an excuse to decline. Julian suddenly remembered something, pulled his arm back, and tossed the bottle back into the fridge. “Almost forgot. You’re on your period.” My brain completely short-circuited, and I froze in place. Hold on. How the hell did Julian know I was on my period?! That was way too accurate for a random guess! “Why aren’t you sitting down?” Julian pulled me over to the plush sofa. He was over 6’2″, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Even sitting casually on the sofa, the oppressive, dominant aura he radiated was impossible to ignore. I intentionally sat a safe distance away from him, desperately trying to keep my head clear. And, more importantly, to state exactly why I was here: “Julian, I need to talk to you.” “We can talk about absolutely anything, except breaking up.” Julian lowered his eyes, his fingers gently, rhythmically tracing the pulse point on my wrist. Furious that he had perfectly anticipated my move, I snapped: “Fine! Let’s talk about something else.” “I came here today to tell you the truth. You were in a car crash, you suffered a traumatic brain injury, and you have identity dysmorphia. You think you are Arthur. But the truth is, Arthur is your roommate, and I am Arthur’s girlfriend.” Julian let out a lazy, cynical chuckle: “You say I’m not Arthur. Do you have any proof?” “Check your ID.” Julian pulled out his wallet and handed me his ID card. But the card clearly displayed Julian’s photo expertly photoshopped onto Arthur’s personal information. I didn’t even have to guess; this was 100% Arthur’s doing. If you looked closely, you could even tell the photo was slightly crooked. It was such a pathetic, obvious fake, yet Julian actually bought it. My shoulders slumped in total defeat. I honestly had no idea how else to explain it to him. Suddenly, Julian’s voice drifted lazily from above my head: “I actually have a way to prove it. But I’m going to need your cooperation.” I grabbed onto the offer like a drowning person grabbing a lifeline: “Tell me! I’ll do whatever it takes!” 8 The exact second the words left my mouth. Julian reached out and effortlessly lifted me onto his lap. He casually wrapped one arm around my waist, using his other hand to brush my bangs aside. His fingertips trailed down my earline, coming to a rest at the nape of my neck. Beneath me were Julian’s solid, muscular thighs. The overpowering scent of a strange man’s pheromones violently shattered every social boundary, aggressively invading my senses and forming an inescapable cage. By the time I finally realized what was happening, there was nowhere left to run. My brain practically exploded. All my composure evaporated instantly. I vaguely realized I had just guessed exactly what “method” he intended to use. I instinctively pressed my hands against Julian’s chest to push him away. But he effortlessly captured my wrists, pulling them to his lips and leaving a trail of wet, tingling, agonizingly slow kisses across my skin. Even though his facial features were significantly sharper and more devastatingly handsome than Arthur’s… He was wearing the exact same black turtleneck sweater, and he was enveloped in the exact same crisp, cedarwood cologne. It was incredibly disorienting. He was too close. So close our lips were practically brushing. So close the scorching heat radiating from his neck was burning the tips of my ears. I was losing the ability to distinguish whether the man in front of me was Arthur or Julian. I snapped out of my daze instantly. I babbled frantically: “Don’t touch me! I’m on my period!” Julian finally released me. He stared intently at the flushed, red marks on my neck, smiling with absolute satisfaction: “Well, the timing of the period matches up perfectly.” “And you taste incredible. There’s absolutely no way you aren’t my girlfriend.”

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Three years after I died saving my best friend, I was reincarnated and born again into her womb. The baby inside her had tragically died due to the fake heiress, driving my friend to despair and the brink of jumping from a window. Inside her belly, I kicked and shouted: 【Girl, don’t be scared, I’m back! Give birth to me, and I’ll kick that jerk and his mistress to the curb for you!】 【You can’t die! I owe a mountain of debt in the underworld all for you; you have to help me pay it back!】 My best friend, Skylar, who was standing on the windowsill, froze. I quickly did a little flip in her womb and revealed a secret only we knew. 【Skylar, that Lamborghini you burned for me last year? I couldn’t even drive it. Did you forget I don’t have a license?】 【And that villa with the pool and all those male models? I sold them all. I really went broke to come find you!】 … Skylar was too shocked by my thoughts to speak. She lowered her head to look at her belly, then gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Kiki, I must be missing you so much to be hallucinating like this.” “Just wait, I’m coming to find you now!” With that, she leaned out the window again. 【No, no, Skylar Bishope! It’s really me, I reincarnated to find you!】 【If you die now, I’ll be completely ruined! Not only will I have to go back and pay off my debts, but no one will burn me fancy villas and paper money anymore!】 I cried out urgently with my thoughts, reaching out inside her belly to make a heart shape. Skylar’s eyes, swollen like walnuts, widened. “Kiki? Is it really you?” I quickly gave her belly a gentle kick. 【You idiot, it’s not a hallucination, it’s me! I’m really back!】 【I went through so much trouble, took out loans in the underworld and pulled strings to save you, and you’re trying to die!】 【Do you want me to lose everything and just let that jerk and his rotten mistress win?】 Skylar covered her face and burst into tears. “Oh, Kiki, I didn’t want this either… But Naomi Vance is already pregnant with Liam Knight’s son, that’s why she dared to hurt me. And the Knight family’s future heir can only be a boy; no one cares about the daughter I’m carrying…” I grinned, both triumphant and sly. 【That’s why I paid extra to change my gender, don’t worry! Just watch me crush them all!】 Looking at Skylar’s bloodless face, her red and swollen eyes, her messy hair, and her crumpled pajamas, my heart ached fiercely. She used to be such a vibrant, lovely goddess, yet that jerk and his mistress had ground her down to this. Those rotten scoundrels deserved to die! 【Skylar, trust me, give birth to me, and watch how I torment those two to get revenge for you!】 My words finally made her stop crying. “Okay, I believe you!” 【Good! Now go eat something nutritious; I’m practically starving to death in here!】 Skylar wiped away her tears, stepped off the windowsill, and started to walk out. “How about sweet and sour pork, steamed fish, and eight-treasure shrimp? I remember you loved those…” My heart warmed considerably. Of course, she was always the one who remembered my favorites. She took a cab straight to the city’s best restaurant and had a wonderful meal, then went to my grave to burn paper money to repay my debt. Hearing that I owed ten billion underworld dollars, she gasped. “Is reincarnation in the underworld really that expensive?” I chuckled, keeping her in suspense: “More than that, I also exchanged for other skill points. You’ll find out later, hehe…” An hour later, as we finished burning a mountain of underworld money. The jerk, Liam Knight, stormed over. “Skylar Bishope, what the hell are you doing?! The doctors can’t find you anywhere! Come back with me for the abortion!” He paused, seeing my tombstone. “Isn’t this that short-lived friend from your orphanage?” He sneered, kicking my tombstone. “What, playing games for sympathy again? Or do you want to go down there and keep being sisters with her?” Three years ago, Skylar was found by the powerful Bishope family, a prominent family in the capital, and became the true heiress. The night before she was officially welcomed back, she was almost kidnapped. It was me who pretended to be her, was taken by the kidnappers, and then murdered. After my death, Skylar was heartbroken and desperately tried to get the Bishope family to call the police for justice. But the Bishope family refused. They believed the matter shouldn’t be publicized, especially since it was just me, an orphan with no background, who died. If things blew up, and someone tried to kidnap her again, it would be real trouble. Skylar couldn’t change their minds, so she could only give me a lavish burial and then diligently investigate the truth herself. It was only after my death that I learned the kidnappers were hired by the fake heiress, Naomi Vance, and Liam Knight knew about it! He feared the Bishope family would trace it back to Naomi, which is why he personally persuaded the Bishope family to drop the investigation. And today, he dares to run his mouth at my grave? He deserves to die! No, I can’t tell Skylar the truth yet. She’s a vulnerable pregnant woman right now and can’t handle any more shock. 【Girl, go back with him. Let him see if you really need that abortion!】 Skylar sneered, retorting, “Don’t worry, how could I bear to die before sending you two rotten scoundrels to hell?” “You! Even at this point, you’re still being stubborn, huh? Let’s see how you explain yourself to my parents back at the hospital!” Liam Knight fumed, angrily dragging her back to the hospital. Naomi Vance, clutching her belly and with teary red eyes, came rushing over. “Sister, please don’t do anything rash. The doctor said you’ll be in danger if you don’t have the abortion soon!” “Even though you accidentally bumped into the corner of the table when you pushed me, we’re still sisters. I won’t blame you!” She cried, her tears like falling pearls, as if she truly feared losing Skylar, her sister. 【You rotten conniving cow, what are you pretending for? Skylar, punch her!】 No sooner had I thought it, than Skylar slapped Naomi across the face. “I accidentally bumped? You deliberately pushed me!” Naomi clutched her face, collapsing into Liam’s arms, sobbing. “Sister, I know you’ve always resented Liam and me, but that night was truly an accident!” “You didn’t want me to have Liam’s baby, that’s why you pushed me… I know losing your baby is painful, you can hit me or curse me, but please don’t try to end your life!” Liam protectively cradled Naomi in his arms, then backhanded Skylar across the face. “Skylar Bishope! You brought this upon yourself with your malicious heart, trying to harm someone, and now you blame Naomi for losing your baby?” “Thank goodness fate had eyes and made you suffer the consequences. You deserve it!” 【Damn it, that rotten scumbag dares to hit my girl? Drop dead!】 I forcefully kicked Skylar’s stomach from the inside. Puke! She precisely emptied the contents of her stomach all over the jerk and the rotten mistress. “Ahhh!” Naomi, who moments ago had been clinging to Liam like a little bird, shrieked, frantically shaking her dress. Liam’s custom-made suit was also covered in vomit. “Ugh—!” Naomi was so disgusted she started throwing up herself. “Who told you my baby is gone? My morning sickness is still this severe!” “Doctor, my baby isn’t dead, he just kicked me! If you don’t believe me, check again!” The doctor looked at her with sympathy, ultimately unable to refuse. After instructing a nurse to help her back to bed, the doctor began the ultrasound examination. The next second, his face changed dramatically. “How is this possible! The fetus’s heartbeat has actually returned, and…” “And its gender characteristics have changed! It was clearly a girl before; how can it be a boy?!” At that moment, Mr. Knight Senior and Mrs. Knight, who had just arrived, immediately brightened. “Dr. Hsu, what did you say? Is that true?!” Their voices trembled with excitement. They had initially believed Naomi’s words and rushed over to confront Skylar. They never expected such a huge surprise! The doctor pointed at the ultrasound image, nodding excitedly. “Yes, Mr. and Mrs. Knight, please look. This is the young master’s first full-face appearance on camera!” “It was a misjudgment due to the angle before. Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Knight, congratulations on your grandson!” The elderly couple grinned, their eyes crinkling with joy. Liam Knight and Naomi Vance’s faces turned ashen. “How can this be? How is this possible?!” If it were true, the boy in Naomi’s belly would no longer be precious! Years ago, the Bishope and Knight families had casually arranged a marriage alliance. After Skylar went missing, the Bishope family adopted Naomi. After years of nurturing, the Knight family also accepted her. She and the Knight brothers, Arthur and Liam, grew up together, their feelings strong. It wasn’t until Skylar was found that, to compensate her, the Bishope family let her choose her preferred spouse for the alliance. My best friend fell for the refined and steady Arthur Knight, but Naomi cried and refused. Liam, feeling sorry for her, cunningly arranged for himself and my best friend to sleep together at a banquet. My best friend had no choice but to marry him. Naomi also got her wish and married Arthur. But soon after the marriage, Arthur died in a plane crash. Her dream of becoming a wealthy socialite was shattered, so she turned her attention back to Liam, the sole heir. Not long after Arthur’s burial, she used the excuse of needing company due to grief and drugged Liam’s drink with an aphrodisiac. After a wild night, she got pregnant before my best friend did! Mr. Knight Senior was furious when he found out and forced her to go to the hospital for an abortion, but Liam protected her, threatening his own life. “Naomi is carrying my child. If you harm the baby, I’ll kill myself! Dad, can you bear to see our Knight family have no descendants?!” Mr. Knight Senior backed down. To cover up the scandal, he could only announce to the public that Naomi was carrying Arthur’s posthumous child. However, my best friend also found out she was pregnant half a month later. Six months into her pregnancy, Naomi constantly played dirty tricks behind the scenes to frame my best friend. She even exploited the fact that she was carrying a boy and my best friend a girl, brainwashing the in-laws. Fortunately, Mr. and Mrs. Knight Senior always felt guilty towards my best friend, so they still took good care of her. Now seeing that both babies were fine, the elderly couple even recited Buddhist prayers. “Thank goodness, thank goodness.” “Doctor, did you make a mistake? You previously said my sister was carrying a girl, and the fetal heartbeat had already died!” Naomi forced a smile, unwilling to give up. The doctor laughed. “The angle was blurry before, leading to a misjudgment. The young master has a strong will to live and great fortune, which is why he turned the corner!” Naomi was so angry she almost passed out, clutching her stomach and starting to cry in pain. Liam quickly helped her to another room. I sneered inside my best friend’s belly. 【Can’t handle this much? Your good fortune is still ahead!】 Over the next few months, both Skylar and Naomi entered confinement mode. Naomi’s pregnancy was incredibly tough; she suffered from morning sickness, fetal movement, frequent urination, and insomnia all day long. In contrast, I was exceptionally well-behaved in Skylar’s belly, even considerate enough to avoid pressing on her internal organs. Naomi’s complexion grew more haggard, and her temper became more volatile. My best friend, however, had a rosy complexion, radiating gentle maternal glow. Every time we had an ultrasound, I cooperated fully, showing myself off. I would even interact with Mr. and Mrs. Knight Senior when they observed. This amazed even the doctor. “Oh my! The young master seems to be waving hello to Mr. and Mrs. Knight!” “Is this the connection of blood? It seems the young master has a great bond with you!” The elderly couple beamed, their faces flushed with joy. Mrs. Knight Senior even reached out, tentatively placing her hand on Skylar’s belly. The next second, I did something that surprised everyone. I extended my chubby little hand and pressed my palm against hers, through the belly! “My precious grandson! My precious grandson is high-fiving me!” Mrs. Knight Senior trembled with excitement, holding up her hand, tears welling in her eyes. “Old man, look quickly! My precious grandson must have been born to be close to me!” Mr. Knight Senior quickly pulled out his phone and took continuous photos: “Record this! This child is so clever and so connected to us; he’s sure to be a pillar of the Knight family in the future!” The two of them began planning my birth gifts early. Naomi, hiding outside the door, clenched her fists in rage. A malicious smile flickered across her face, as if she had made some kind of resolution.

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Eight years of marriage, and my husband’s “one who got away” just posted a photo of a deed on her Instagram. The caption read: Choosing the right man is choosing the rest of your life. I left a polite comment suggesting that a woman’s best security is her own hard work. It was deleted within seconds. Moments later, my phone shrieked. It was Gavin, my husband. He didn’t ask for my side; he just went straight for the throat. “Jade is struggling with those mortgage payments, Cassidy! It’s not easy for a single woman in this city. I helped her out with one payment—is that really worth you bullying her? I earned that money; I have the right to spend it. Stop being so damn pathetic and stay away from her!” I could hear Jade sobbing in the background, her voice a fragile, breathy thing, surrounded by the murmurs of people comforting her. I stood frozen for two seconds. By the time I found my voice, he had already hung up and blocked my number. An hour later, Jade posted again. This time, it was a scanned document: a fifty-percent equity transfer for Gavin’s company. I knew exactly what it was. It was Gavin’s way of “compensating” her for my comment. It was a trophy held up to my face, a declaration of war. But for the first time in eight years, I didn’t feel the urge to fight. I just felt… finished. 1 When Gavin finally stumbled through the front door, I had just finished tossing the empty progesterone syringe into the hazardous waste bin. This was our second shot at a family. I was eight weeks pregnant, and the doctors had already labeled it a “threatened miscarriage.” I’d spent the morning bleeding in an ER cubicle while the doctor looked me in the eye and told me that if I wanted to keep this baby, I needed bed rest and daily injections. No exceptions. I hadn’t planned on telling him yet. Not like this. I had spent five hours in the kitchen, despite the cramps, preparing his favorite dinner. It was his birthday, after all, and he’d promised he’d be home early so we could celebrate. But I had waited until the sun went down, and all I got was Jade’s celebratory Instagram feed. After that phone call, the numbness set in. I moved like a ghost, scraping the beef bourguignon and the hand-frosted cake—the one I’d spent all afternoon perfecting—directly into the trash. Gavin glanced at the empty dining table, his forehead creasing with that familiar, sharp irritation. “You forgot what day it is, didn’t you?” It was his birthday. Of course I remembered. Every year, regardless of how many board meetings I had or how much my own career as a corporate executive demanded of me, I made sure this day was perfect. I’d done it since we were broke interns, all the way until we were “the power couple” everyone envied. But this was the last time. And he hadn’t even shown up. I didn’t look up from my phone. I was scrolling through Jade’s old posts. It was an education. Ever since Gavin hired her as his “executive assistant” a year ago, she had posted something every single day. Gifts, flowers, “random” acts of kindness from her boss. In twelve months, he had given her more than he’d given me in eight years. I had spent a decade worrying about our savings, about the company’s overhead, about “building our future.” It turns out I was just saving up so someone else could spend it. A bitter, jagged laugh escaped my throat. “So,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “You just handed her ten million in equity and a condo. She couldn’t even be bothered to buy you dinner?” He wasn’t expecting the direct hit. His face flushed, the annoyance turning into a defensive snarl. “Are you having another breakdown? Those are year-end bonuses, Cassidy. She’s the hardest worker in that office. If I don’t take care of my top talent, they leave. It’s called management. Maybe you should take a refresher course.” “Oh, is that how it works? Million-dollar condos for the staff? You’re a regular saint, Gavin. Maybe I should quit my VP role and come work for you. I’d love a view of the park.” His eyes flashed with rage, his chest heaving as he prepared to scream, but then his phone chimed. He looked down at the screen, and the transformation was instantaneous. The anger drained out of him, replaced by a soft, almost sickeningly sweet smile. I didn’t need to see the screen to know it was Jade. When he looked back at me, the heat was gone, replaced by a cold, condescending pity. “Look, I already explained it. And I’m not even going to start on the way you attacked her online. If there was really something going on between us, would I be coming home to you? You think I’m a masochist? You think I enjoy looking at your miserable face?” I didn’t answer. I just turned and walked into the kitchen. He followed me, probably thinking his “logic” had worked and I was going to whip up a late-night peace offering. “Fine, don’t worry about dinner,” he sighed, sounding martyred. “I’ll go down to the bakery and grab a cake. God, I must have done something terrible in a past life to have to beg for a smile on my own birthday.” I walked past him, carrying a heavy, bulging trash bag. When he saw me heading for the door, he froze. His posture went stiff, his eyes darting toward me with a strange, paranoid intensity. “Why are you following me? It’s a ten-minute walk to the bakery. What are you going to do, put a GPS tracker on me? You’re obsessed, Cassidy. You’re literally sick.” 2 I knew why he was defensive. In the past, when he’d stay out until 3:00 AM “networking,” I’d worry. I’d ask him to share his location so I’d know he wasn’t lying in a ditch somewhere. He’d weaponized that concern, turning it into a narrative about my “suffocating control.” I knew he hated sweets. He wasn’t going to a bakery. But I didn’t have the energy to peel back the layers of his lie tonight. I just lifted the heavy bag of garbage. “Relax, Gavin. I’m just taking out the trash.” Maybe it was the sight of me—pale, exhausted, carrying a bag of ruined food—that triggered a momentary glitch in his conscience. The edge left his voice. He offered a small, tentative olive branch. “Look, after I drop the trash, why don’t we go to that late-night taco spot? The one you like?” I figured a “last meal” was as good a way to end things as any. I nodded. Twenty minutes later, he pulled the car over in front of a dimly lit, boarded-up food truck in a part of town I didn’t recognize. Before I could even get a good look at the surroundings, he floored the accelerator. The car roared away, leaving a cloud of exhaust and grit in my face. I coughed, shielding my eyes, and realized the “taco spot” wasn’t just closed; it looked like it had been out of business for years. There were a couple of dive bars nearby. Men with glassy eyes and no shirts lounged on plastic crates, their gazes crawling over me like insects. I had left the house in a rush, wearing only a thin silk slip dress under a light coat. I crouched on the curb, feeling small and exposed. It was nearly midnight, and this wasn’t the kind of neighborhood where you could easily catch an Uber. Cold sweat broke out on my forehead. Just as I was pulling out my phone to call a cab—or the police—a man stumbled toward me, reeking of cheap bourbon. He held a shattered beer bottle in one hand. I noticed a wedding band on his finger as he reached out to steady himself against my shoulder. “Hey there, sweetheart,” he slurred. “Whatcha doin’ out here all alone? I got fifty bucks. Why don’t you come home with me?” My blood turned to ice. I scrambled backward, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Get away from me! Don’t touch me!” The man’s face twisted. The rejection, fueled by the alcohol, turned him aggressive. He raised the broken bottle, his voice rising into a shout. Fortunately, the commotion caught the attention of a passing car. A middle-aged woman pulled over and stayed on the line with 911 until I could get into her car. She drove me back to my complex, and I spent the entire ride shaking so hard my teeth rattled. By the time I walked through my front door, the dull ache in my lower abdomen had sharpened into a stabbing pain. I was clutching a glass of warm water, trying to breathe through the cramps, when Gavin slammed the door open. He looked livid. “You couldn’t have called me? I’ve been driving around that block for an hour looking for you! I almost called the cops! Is this some kind of sick game to you?” I set the glass down. My hands were finally still, but my heart felt like it had been hollowed out with a spoon. If he had actually been looking for me, he would have seen that the truck was closed. He would have seen me huddled on the curb. “You were looking for me?” I asked, my voice dripping with irony. “You dropped me in a dark alley in the middle of nowhere. Were you worried I’d get hurt, Gavin? Or were you worried I wouldn’t?” “Don’t start with that—” “I tried to call you,” I interrupted, my voice rising. “I called you six times. But I forgot. You blocked me, remember?” God, I had been so scared. As those men circled me, I had actually started rehearsing my last words in my head. He went quiet, his jaw tightening as he realized his mistake. He threw a white cardboard box onto the coffee table. “I got you the damn cake. Happy now?” He stomped into the bathroom to shower. Through the closed door, I could hear the faint, muffled sound of him laughing at something on his phone. I collapsed onto the sofa, my face bone-white. I looked at the cake box. It had been opened; a small, messy wedge had already been carved out of the side. With trembling fingers, I opened Instagram. Jade had just posted. The photo showed the floor-to-ceiling windows of a luxury penthouse, the city lights reflecting in the glass. Two silhouettes were entwined in the reflection. In the foreground sat a perfect strawberry cake with a single, flickering candle. The caption: Every birthday, from now until forever, we’ll be by each side. Love is in the details. I squeezed my eyes shut, focusing on my breathing. I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t let the stress kill this baby. I forced myself up, picked up the “leftover” cake Gavin had brought me, and dropped it into the trash can. Gavin walked out of the bathroom, drying his hair. When he saw what I’d done, he exploded. “What the hell is wrong with you? You’re always whining about ‘romance’ and ‘rituals.’ I drove halfway across the city for that cake, and you just throw it away?” “I’m not doing this anymore, Gavin,” I said, my voice dead. “Keep your money. Spend it on whatever—or whoever—you want. I have a job. I have a life. I’m done fighting for a seat at a table where I’m not wanted.” He cut me off with a scoff. “Oh, here we go. The martyr act. Ever since Jade started, you’ve been a nightmare. Honestly, it’s a blessing the first pregnancy didn’t stick. With a mother as unstable as you, that kid wouldn’t have stood a chance.” The world turned red. Before I could process the thought, my hand had already connected with his face. 3 “Don’t you dare mention my child!” I screamed, the sound tearing from my throat. “The only tragedy that baby faced was having a father like you!” I didn’t wait for his reaction. I ran into the bedroom and turned the deadbolt. Outside, the house shook with his muffled rages and curses. Eventually, it went quiet. I sat on the edge of the bed, hot tears streaming down my face. Since Jade entered the picture, I had watched myself turn into a person I didn’t recognize. The security I’d spent eight years building had vanished in a month. I had become needy, paranoid, desperate for a crumb of his affection. I had even thought a baby might fix us. I’ll never forget the look on his face when I showed him the positive pregnancy test the first time. He was busy texting Jade. He didn’t even look up; he just threw his phone on the table so hard the screen shattered. “The company is growing,” he’d said. “We’re cash-strapped. I can’t afford a kid right now. Get rid of it.” I was horrified. Disgusted. I told him absolutely not. A few weeks later, he’d insisted I accompany him to a high-stakes business dinner. We hadn’t been out together in months, so I went, thinking it was a peace offering. I ended up in a private room surrounded by middle-aged investors who smelled like cigars and entitlement. They kept pushing glasses of high-proof whiskey toward me. I looked at Gavin for help. He just laughed and bragged about how “tough” his wife was, how I could out-drink any man in the room. I drank. I drank until I was numb, the tears mixing with the burning liquid. An hour later, I was on the floor of a bathroom stall, my dress soaked in blood. He took his time getting me to the hospital. We lost the baby. That was why I hadn’t told him this time. If he’d had “no money” for a child back then, how did he suddenly have enough for Jade’s condo and her shares? The math didn’t add up. It never had. He hadn’t been protecting the company; he’d been protecting his “future” with her. My baby was just an obstacle to his true love. Looking at Jade’s post, I realized the lie was over. This marriage was a corpse I’d been dragging around for years. The next morning, he was gone before I woke up. I didn’t waste time. I called my lawyer and told her to draft the papers. As I was about to head out, I saw a notification on LinkedIn. Gavin’s company had posted a “Celebration” video. Jade had been promoted to “Partner.” She was no longer the girl who got the coffee; she was an owner. In the video, they were standing in front of the office staff, arms linked, drinking from the same champagne glass. I zoomed in on Gavin’s hand. His wedding ring was gone. In its place was a heavy, designer band—white gold and diamonds. Jade was wearing the matching female version. I recognized them immediately; they were the “Eternal” set from a boutique we’d visited years ago. I felt a cold, sharp laugh bubble up. When we got married, his company was just a dream in a garage. To save money, I’d picked out the cheapest bands in the store. He’d cried that day, promising me that as soon as he made it, he’d buy me the most expensive ring in the world. I’d waited eight years. He finally bought the ring. He just gave it to someone else. 4 I had just finished signing the initial filing when my phone rang. Gavin. “I’m picking you up at six,” he said, his voice clipped and professional. “Company retreat. Jade wants to clear the air and explain the ‘misunderstandings.’” He hung up before I could say a word. I looked at the phone, feeling a strange mix of irony and coldness. He’d finally unblocked me. Did she want to explain? Or did she want to gloat? It didn’t matter. I didn’t care anymore. I spent the afternoon at the doctor’s office. The news wasn’t good. My stress levels were skyrocketing, and the bleeding hadn’t fully stopped. The doctor handed me a stack of prescriptions and a stern warning: “If you don’t find a way to stay calm, you’re going to lose this one, too.” I took the meds and went home. I didn’t pack a suitcase; I just started looking for a new apartment. I’d already put down a deposit on a furnished rental by the time Gavin’s car pulled into the driveway. I went down in my leggings and an oversized sweater, no makeup, my hair in a messy knot. I just wanted to hand him the papers and be done. He took one look at me and his face twisted in disgust. “You’re going out like that? Could you try not to embarrass me for once? People will think I don’t give you enough of an allowance for a decent lipstick.” The passenger door opened, and Jade stepped out, looking like she’d just walked off a movie set. Her skin was glowing, her makeup flawless. Before I could get a word out, she was ushering me into the backseat with a sugary sweet smile. “Oh, Gavin, leave her alone. Cassidy looks beautiful naturally. Besides, if she dolled herself up too much, you’d never want to let her out of the house, right?” She slid back into the passenger seat, and for the entire forty-minute drive, they chatted incessantly about office politics and “their” new vision for the company. I sat in the back, a ghost in my own life. In eight years, Gavin had never talked to me like that. He’d never shared his day with such enthusiasm. The car pulled over. I looked out the window and realized the “retreat” was at the exact same dive-bar area where he’d abandoned me two nights ago. The “taco truck” was open tonight, and the sidewalk was crowded with his employees. They cheered when they saw the car. “Mr. Miller! Ms. Whitmore!” they shouted, ushering them toward the center table like royalty. I scanned the crowd. There was no seat for me at the main table. Jade tapped her chin, looking performatively shocked. “Oh no! I totally forgot to count Cassidy in the seating chart. Everyone, can we squeeze—” “Don’t worry about it,” Gavin interrupted, not even looking at me. “She’s fine. It’s just dinner.” I didn’t argue. I walked to a small, greasy table in the far corner and sat down. The people at this table were new hires. They didn’t know who I was, and Gavin didn’t bother to introduce me. I sat in the shadows, listening to the chatter. Apparently, Jade had picked this spot. She told everyone it was “sentimental”—the place where she and Gavin used to grab food back in college. I had just taken a bite of a lukewarm taco when a shadow fell over the table. “Well, well,” a familiar, raspy voice said. “If it isn’t the girl who wouldn’t take my fifty bucks. Back for more? I’ll give you a hundred tonight. You look like you need it.” 5 The blood drained from my face. My skin crawled. Gavin looked over from the main table. He saw the man leaning over me, saw the shattered bottle on the ground from the night before, and his expression turned cold. But he didn’t move. It was one of the junior developers who finally stood up and pushed the man away. Gavin just raised his beer bottle and let out a short, sharp laugh. “Is that where you were the other night, Cassidy? I wondered why you weren’t answering. I didn’t realize you’d started a new… side hustle.” The insult hit me like a physical blow. The humiliation and rage boiled over, drowning out the doctor’s warnings. I stood up, my chair screeching against the pavement. I turned to leave. Jade was on me in a second, grabbing my arm. “Oh, Cassidy, don’t go! It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have picked this place. I’m so sorry. I wanted this to be a night of healing. Let me make it up to you. A peace offering!” She grabbed a shot of tequila from a passing tray and downed it in one go. The light caught that massive diamond ring on her finger. It felt like a needle in my eye. Gavin finally stood up and walked over, looking bored. “She apologized, Cassidy. Let it go. Stop making a scene in front of my staff.” I looked at him, truly looked at him. “She apologizes, and I’m just supposed to forget everything? Is that how your world works, Gavin?” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a threatening hiss. “She just did a shot for you. The least you can do is show some respect. You’re being a pathetic, jealous brat.” He grabbed a bottle of beer and shoved it into my hand. I gripped the bottle, my knuckles white. “I can’t drink. I’m leaving.” I turned to walk away, but his hand shot out, grabbing me by the back of my neck. “I’m tired of your games, Cassidy. You’re going to stay, and you’re going to be a part of this team.” He jerked me backward, slamming my spine against his chest. He snatched the beer bottle, forced my jaw open, and began pouring the liquid down my throat. I choked, the bitter foam stinging my lungs. I tried to push him away, my hand instinctively flying to my stomach. He threw the empty bottle onto the pavement, the glass shattering. “Stop being so damn dramatic!” he roared. “Apologize to Jade! Now! Or don’t bother coming back to the house. I’m done!” The crowd had gone silent. Every eye was on us. I felt the warm sting of tears, but I didn’t let them fall. I just wiped my mouth and nodded slowly. “Fine,” I whispered. “Let’s get a divorce.” I turned to walk away. Jade tried to grab my arm again, her face a mask of fake concern. “Wait! Don’t be impulsive! This isn’t worth a marriage—” “Get your hands off me!” I shoved her back. She stumbled and fell onto the gravel. Gavin snapped. He grabbed a heavy glass pitcher from the table and swung it with everything he had. It caught me right on the back of the head. The world tilted. I hit the ground hard. The last thing I saw before the darkness took me was the dark, crimson stain spreading across the seat of my light-colored leggings.

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During the weekly wrap-up, the new intern suddenly switched the projector to my attendance record. The eyes of the CEO and the entire company locked onto me in an instant. The intern, Madison, tilted her chin up with a smug grin and slammed a stack of photos onto the mahogany conference table. “Nate, I’m reporting her. She’s been using the company’s luxury vehicle to pick up her kid every single day. It’s a blatant misuse of company assets for personal gain. I move for immediate termination!” Nate’s face turned as dark as a thundercloud. I looked at this ambitious intern with a flicker of genuine pity. She was so desperate to climb the ladder she hadn’t noticed the rungs were made of glass. The “company car” she was referring to? That was my Rolls-Royce Cullinan. A three-hundred-thousand-dollar piece of machinery. For the sake of closing deals and keeping the firm’s image afloat, I had let the company use it for free for two whole years. 1 The silence in the room was absolute, the kind of heavy quiet that precedes a storm. The central AC was humming at a steady sixty-eight degrees, but a chill crept into my bones that had nothing to do with the temperature. It was the coldness of human nature. In the photos, the black Cullinan gleamed under the streetlights, parked in front of an elite private preschool. The angles were sharp, intentional—capturing me leaning down to lift my daughter, her small arms around my neck, with the last four digits of the license plate clearly visible. Madison leaned her hands on the table. Her face, young and flush with the misplaced zeal of a “corporate crusader,” burned with a self-righteous fire. She looked at me as if I were a common thief caught with my hand in the vault. “Nate, according to the Employee Handbook, company vehicles are strictly for business use. As a senior executive, Ms. Mercer shouldn’t just be setting an example—she should be the standard. Instead, she’s turned our most expensive client-facing asset into her personal nanny-cam on wheels. School runs, grocery trips, weekend getaways. It’s all here.” Her voice was crisp, echoing off the glass walls. She clicked to the next slide, revealing a detailed Excel spreadsheet. “I’ve done the math. Between the commute and the school runs, she’s putting an extra twenty-five miles on the odometer daily. Between the fuel consumption of a V12 and the depreciation, we’re looking at thousands in hidden costs every month. And that’s not even counting the billable hours she’s stealing from the company driver.” She turned to the head of the table, Nathaniel Cross. Nate. Nate was my college classmate. He was the founder of this firm. In the early days, when he couldn’t even cover payroll, I was the one who dipped into my savings to keep the lights on. Later, when we needed to project an image of success to land the big fish, my five-year-old BMW didn’t cut it. Without a second thought, I brought in the Cullinan I’d bought myself as a thirty-fifth birthday present—a car I’d owned for less than a month. I told him back then, “Take it. Use it. We need the clients to see we’re already in their league.” That “temporary” favor had lasted two years. I paid for the gas. I paid the insurance premiums. I covered the maintenance. Sometimes, when the driver was overwhelmed, I even drove to JFK myself to pick up VIPs. Everyone in this building knew that car was mine. Or at least, they should have. But looking at Nate now, there was no defense in his eyes. His brow was furrowed, his fingers drumming rhythmically on the table—a nervous habit he had whenever he was weighing his own interests against someone else’s. “Diana.” Nate finally spoke. His voice was low, coated in a professional coldness that felt like a slap. “The evidence Madison provided… is it true?” I stared at him, my heart skipping a beat. Is it true? Two years ago, when he begged me for the car to save face, he said, “Diana, I’m so sorry to ask this of you. As soon as we’re in the black, I’ll buy you a brand-new one.” One year ago, when the cash flow dried up, I used that car as collateral for a bridge loan so he could pay his staff. He told me then, “Diana, this car is the company’s lifeline. It’s your badge of honor.” And now, he was asking me if it was true? I scanned the room. George, the sales manager, had used that very car last week to pick up his mother-in-law from the hospital, bragging on Instagram about “company perks.” Now, he kept his head down, intently studying his legal pad. Sarah from HR, who asked for the keys every other month “for supplies” but really just wanted to cruise with her boyfriend, was looking at me with a sneer, as if I were a white-collar criminal. It turns out that in the face of profit, kindness isn’t just cheap—it’s invisible. “What do you think, Nate?” I asked. My voice was calmer than I expected. Nate avoided my gaze. “The photos speak for themselves. Diana, you’ve been with us since the beginning, and we’re friends, but a policy is a policy. We have to separate the personal from the professional. That’s a fundamental principle.” He paused, a look of grim determination settling over his features. “Here’s how we’ll handle this. You’ll hand over the keys immediately. From now on, the vehicle will be managed strictly by the administration department. Additionally, the finance team will calculate the fuel and depreciation costs Madison outlined and deduct them from your next paycheck.” Madison’s lips curled into a triumphant smirk. She looked like a cat that had finally caught the prize canary. “Thank you, Nate. That’s very fair. Also, I think a formal apology in front of the whole staff is necessary. This kind of behavior rots company culture.” Nate hesitated, glancing at me briefly before nodding. “We’ll skip the speech. A company-wide memo detailing the disciplinary action will suffice.” A company-wide memo. A docked pay. Confiscation of my own keys. I looked at Nate’s familiar face and realized I didn’t recognize him at all. It was my car. But I didn’t argue. I didn’t scream. I didn’t reach into my bag, pull out the title, and throw it in his face. Because I saw the naked ambition in Madison’s eyes, and I saw the calculated greed in Nate’s. She wanted to use me as a stepping stone; he wanted to seize the chance to finally claim the “company limo” as his own, permanently turning my generosity into his asset. Two years is a long time. Long enough for people to develop the delusion that what they’ve been allowed to use actually belongs to them. “Fine,” I said. I stood up, reached into my bag, and pulled out the heavy, leather-bound key fob. I placed it gently on the conference table. The thud it made was small, but it felt like a gavel coming down. “There are the keys. I accept the memo.” I looked at Nate, a slight, knowing smile touching my lips. “I hope this car brings the company all the luck it deserves.” Nate clearly hadn’t expected me to fold so easily. He blinked, a flash of relief—and then greed—crossing his face. “I’m glad you understand, Diana. It’s for the good of the firm.” Madison snatched the keys off the table, gripping them tight as if they were a golden ticket to the C-suite. “See, Diana? If you’d just been honest from the start, it wouldn’t have come to this.” I looked at her with pure pity. She didn’t realize what she was holding. She thought she’d snatched power. In reality, she had just grabbed a live grenade. One that was about to blow this company to pieces. 2 The memo hit everyone’s inbox thirty minutes later. The subject line was a serrated blade: Disciplinary Notice Regarding Misuse of Corporate Assets: Operations Director Diana Mercer. It detailed my “crimes” with surgical precision: the long-term unauthorized use of the firm’s flagship Cullinan for personal errands, picking up children, and shopping trips. It cited a “severe breach of asset management protocols” and “conduct unbecoming of leadership.” I sat in my office, listening to the murmurs drifting over the cubicle walls. “Unbelievable. She always acted so high and mighty, but she’s just another cheapskate skimming off the top.” “Right? A Cullinan? That’s a four-hundred-thousand-dollar car. Using it as a minivan? Some people have no shame.” “Do you think she actually thought Nate wouldn’t notice? Even he doesn’t drive it that often.” “Madison really did us a favor. It’s about time someone cleaned house.” I took a sip of my coffee. The bitterness coated my tongue, but it couldn’t touch the coldness in my chest. The door swung open without a knock. Madison walked in, clutching a clipboard. She didn’t just walk—she marched. “Diana, Finance finished the audit. Based on the mileage logs over the last twenty-four months, you owe the company one hundred twenty-eight thousand dollars in fuel, maintenance, and depreciation.” She slammed the paper onto my desk, looming over me. “Nate already signed off on it. You have three days to settle the balance, or it’ll be liquidated from your year-end bonus and equity dividends.” I picked up the sheet and scanned the numbers. They were incredibly thorough. They had even counted the miles I drove to the dealership for the car’s scheduled maintenance as “personal use.” “One hundred twenty-eight thousand,” I mused. “You’re quite the mathematician, Madison.” “I’m efficient,” she snapped. “I know you’re bitter, Diana. But these are the rules. You enjoyed a lifestyle you didn’t pay for. Now, the bill is due.” “Enjoyed?” I leaned back in my chair, looking her dead in the eye. “Do you have any idea what the insurance on that car costs annually?” Madison hesitated. “The company pays it, obviously.” “No. I do. Fifty thousand a year.” “And the maintenance?” “Also me. Over ten grand a service.” “Well… that was your choice! You’re the one who drove it!” Madison stammered, her logic beginning to fray. “Do you even know who brought that car into this office two years ago?” “Who cares? It belongs to the company now,” Madison said, waving her hand dismissively. “Don’t try to deflect. Pay the money. The keys are in my possession now. If you need a car for work, you’ll have to submit a formal request form. I’ll be the one approving it.” She would be approving it. An intern who had been here less than ninety days was going to approve the Operations Director’s travel. The sheer absurdity of it was almost cinematic. “Understood.” I picked up a pen and signed the confirmation slip with a flourish. “I’ll settle the debt.” Madison snatched the paper back, a look of pure, unadulterated triumph on her face. “Smart move. Oh, and Nate told me to tell you: we have a massive client coming in next Monday. He specifically requested the Cullinan for his transport. Make sure you clear out all your personal junk. I don’t want the client seeing car seats or teething toys. It’s embarrassing for the firm.” “Will do.” I agreed so quickly it almost startled her. Madison turned and walked out, her heels clicking against the floor like a victory drum. I watched her go, then pulled out my phone. I checked my bank balance—more than enough—and then dialed a number I had saved under “Legal.” “Hey, Robert? It’s Diana Mercer.” “Yes, I need to consult on a few things. Illegal seizure of private property, back-payment of unauthorized expenses, and potential fraud.” “Evidence? I have everything. Every wire transfer, every service receipt, every insurance binder from the last two years. All in my name.” I hung up and opened my bottom desk drawer. I pulled out a thick manila folder. Inside were the original documents for the Rolls-Royce. The sales contract. The title. The tax certification. And there, in bold ink under Registered Owner, were two words: Diana Mercer. Two years ago, I had “loaned” the car to Nate to help him look the part of a successful CEO. He’d offered to sign a lease agreement—twenty thousand a month. I had said, “Don’t worry about it, Nate. We’re partners. Keep the cash in the business until we’re stable.” We never put it in writing. I thought it was a gesture of loyalty. Now I realized it was just a weapon I’d handed him to use against me. If they wanted to play by the book, if they wanted to “settle accounts,” then we were going to count every single penny. I stood up and walked down to the executive garage. The Cullinan was sitting in the CEO’s reserved spot. Madison was there, directing two junior assistants as they swarmed the car. “Throw these floor mats out, they’re hideous,” she barked. “And this charm hanging from the mirror? Toss it. It looks like a kindergarten project.” “Check the trunk. Clear out any personal boxes. We don’t want their private clutter in here.” Those “hideous” mats were custom-ordered leather, worth eight hundred dollars. The charm was a lucky tassel my daughter had made me with her own hands. The boxes in the trunk contained high-end gift sets I’d bought with my own money for our upcoming client gala. I stood behind a concrete pillar, watching them like scavengers, throwing my belongings onto the dirty garage floor and stepping over them. Madison even climbed into the driver’s seat, gripped the steering wheel, and took a selfie. I saw her post it to her Instagram story a second later. Caption: New whip. Hard work pays off. Keep grinding! #CEOEnergy #GrowthMindset I looked at the post and tapped the heart icon. Keep grinding, Madison. I hope you enjoy the ride. Because this car is temperamental—she only listens to her real owner. 3 The next morning, the HR Manager called me in. “Diana, given the severity of the policy violation, the firm has decided to temporarily suspend your operational authority.” The HR manager, Brenda, was in her late forties and we’d always been on good terms. Now, she wouldn’t even meet my eyes. “Nate feels it’s best if you step back from active accounts this week to… reflect. You’ll be handing over your current projects for the transition.” “Handing them over to whom?” “Madison.” I arched an eyebrow. “To an intern?” “Nate says Madison has shown ‘extraordinary integrity’ and a ‘keen eye for oversight.’ The board—well, Nate—is fast-tracking her to Operations Manager to help shoulder your workload.” Fast-tracked. I see. She used my “corpse” as a ladder to a management title. A hell of a trade for ninety days of work. “Understood.” I went back to my office. Madison was already there, sitting at a makeshift desk they’d squeezed in next to mine. She was wearing a sharp power suit, her hair slicked back into a tight bun. She looked the part, I’ll give her that. “Diana,” she said, dropping the ‘Ms. Mercer.’ Her tone held zero respect. “Nate wants me to take over the client files. Specifically the Beaumont account. He’s coming in Monday, and I need to be lead on the prep.” Arthur Beaumont. Our biggest client. The man who provided sixty percent of our annual revenue. I had landed him two years ago, specifically because I showed up to our first meeting in that Cullinan. Beaumont was a man of old-school tastes. He cared about presentation. He’d run his hand over the leather seats and said, “Ms. Mercer, a car tells you everything about a person’s attention to detail. I think we’ll do great things together.” Now, Madison wanted him. “The files are on the shared drive. Help yourself,” I said flatly. “I’m sure there are details not in the files,” Madison said, leaning in. “What are his preferences? What tea does he drink? Any allergies? Golf handicap?” I looked at her hungry, desperate face. “He drinks Da Hong Pao tea. He’s allergic to shellfish. And he loves golf—usually plays at the club in Westchester.” I told her the truth. Mostly. He did love that tea. He was allergic to shellfish. But what I didn’t mention was that Arthur Beaumont absolutely loathed young people who pretended to know more than they did. He despised “performative excellence.” “Got it,” Madison scribbled in her notebook. “Thanks. Oh, and I’ve given the car keys to Old Joe, the driver. Nate said from now on, that car is strictly for VIPs like Beaumont. It stays locked in the garage otherwise.” “Sounds like a plan.” That afternoon, I drove to the Rolls-Royce dealership. “Ms. Mercer! Good to see you,” the service manager greeted me warmly. “Everything okay with the Cullinan?” “It’s fine,” I said, pulling a spare key from my purse. “I need a full diagnostic run remotely, and I want to upgrade the GPS and anti-theft software. Specifically the remote-kill switch.” “Of course. Did you bring the vehicle in?” “No,” I smiled. “But someone will be bringing it in soon. Very soon.” The manager looked confused but nodded professionally. “Whatever you need. The car is in your name, Ms. Mercer. We only take orders from you.” I walked out of the dealership into a gray, overcast afternoon. I took an Uber back to the office. As we pulled up to the curb, I saw the Cullinan gliding out of the garage. Old Joe was driving. Madison was in the passenger seat, chatting animatedly. In the back, Nate was leaning against the headrest with his eyes closed, looking every bit the high-powered executive. They were off to a lunch meeting with a new prospect. The window rolled down as they got stuck at the red light next to me. Madison saw me standing on the sidewalk, waiting for my ride. She leaned out, a smirk plastered on her face. “Hey, Diana! Waiting for a bus?” She gave a mock-sympathetic pout. “Sorry about this, but Nate has a big meeting and we needed the ‘company’ car. It’s a scorcher out here—maybe you should just head home early and play with your kid.” Nate opened his eyes and looked at me. His expression was a messy cocktail of guilt and arrogance. “Just expense the Uber, Diana,” he said, before rolling up the tinted glass. The black beast roared away, splashing a puddle of dirty rainwater onto the hem of my skirt. I stood there, watching the taillights disappear into traffic. Expense the Uber? Nate, you forgot one very important detail. The gas card for that car is linked to my personal Amex. Right on cue, my phone buzzed. A notification popped up: Spent $185.50 at Shell Station #402. Using my car, burning my gas, to go to their meetings, all while mocking me for being on foot. The audacity of these parasites was truly breathtaking. I took a deep breath and called my bank. “Yes, hello. I’d like to report a stolen gas card.” “That’s right. Freeze it immediately. No more transactions.” Then, I opened the Rolls-Royce remote-access app on my phone. The screen showed the car moving East at 45 mph. My finger hovered over the Remote Engine Lock button. I hesitated for a second. No. Locking it now was too easy. I wanted to lock it at a moment they would never, ever forget. I closed the app and hailed another taxi. “Driver, take me to the best commercial real estate office in the city.” “You got it, ma’am.” If we were settling accounts, we were going to talk about the building, too. The office we were currently in? It was a floor in a boutique building downtown that my father had left me. When Nate started the company, he couldn’t afford a prestigious address. I let him have the space at half the market rate. The lease was a “gentleman’s agreement,” renewed annually. And it just so happened to expire this coming Monday. Madison wanted “efficiency”? Let’s see how efficient they are when they’re working out of a Starbucks. 4 The next few days were remarkably quiet for me. Madison, on the other hand, was frantic. She was trying to manage my entire department while simultaneously planning the “Grand Welcome” for Arthur Beaumont. She treated the Cullinan like her personal trophy. She had Old Joe wash it three times a day. She flooded her social media with selfies from the backseat, her captions dripping with smugness: “Status isn’t just a title, it’s an environment.” “Heavy is the head that wears the crown, but the leather seats help.” Dozens of coworkers liked her posts, calling her a “rising star” and “the future of the firm.” They had no idea she was playing with matches in a room full of gasoline. Friday evening, while I was home helping my daughter build a Lego castle, my phone rang. It was Nate. “Diana, where are you?” He sounded stressed. “At home. Why?” “The gas card isn’t working. Joe went to fill up for the weekend, and it said ‘Card Frozen.’” “Oh, that,” I said casually. “That card is in my name. I thought I lost my wallet earlier, so I reported it stolen and canceled all the cards.” “You…” Nate choked back a frustrated sound. “Well, un-cancel it! We need the car for the Beaumont pickup on Monday morning!” “I can’t do that over the phone, Nate. I have to go to the branch in person with my ID. They’re closed for the weekend, and honestly, I’m pretty booked with ‘reflecting’ on my behavior.” “Diana! Are you doing this on purpose?” Nate’s voice rose an octave. “Just because of that fine? Are you really being this petty? If we lose Beaumont, the whole company is in jeopardy. Do you want that on your conscience?” “Nate.” I cut him off, my voice like ice. “First, it’s my personal card. I manage it how I see fit. Second, why is the company using my personal card for fuel anyway? Doesn’t the ‘administration department’ provide the driver with a corporate card?” Silence on the other end. The company did provide a fuel allowance. But I knew exactly where that money went—it went into Nate’s pocket to cover his country club dues, and Joe just used my card because I never complained. Until now. “Fine, Diana. Fine,” Nate spat. “The company will cover the gas. Don’t expect to use a single company resource moving forward.” “Understood, Nate.” I hung up and looked out at the city skyline. This was only the beginning. Sunday night, I made copies of all my receipts. I pulled out the lease for the office space. It was black and white: Lease expires October 31st. That was tomorrow. If they didn’t sign a renewal—which they couldn’t, because I hadn’t sent them one—they would be trespassing by noon. I sent a quick text to my real estate agent: “Bring the new prospective tenants by tomorrow morning at 10:00 AM sharp.” “You got it, Diana. That floor is hot. I have a hedge fund willing to pay double the current rent.” “Perfect. Anyone but the current tenant is fine by me.” I poured myself a glass of red wine. Tomorrow was going to be a masterpiece. Beaumont was coming for an inspection. The real estate agent was coming for an eviction. Madison was coming for her “big break.” And I was coming for everything they owed me. I took a piece of paper and began to list the numbers. Cullinan Purchase Price: $320,000. Sales Tax & Registration: $28,000. Two years of Insurance: $100,000. Maintenance & Repairs: $80,000. Two years of Fuel: $60,000. Office Rent Deficit: $1,200,000. Unpaid Loans to Nate: $500,000. Total: $2,288,000. And that was just the money I could prove. It didn’t count my blood, my sweat, or the connections I’d handed Nate on a silver platter. I looked at the number and laughed. I had spent over two million dollars to raise a pack of wolves. They didn’t just forget to thank me—they tried to eat me. One hundred twenty-eight thousand dollar “fine”? Tomorrow, I was going to make them vomit up every cent they’d ever taken from me, with interest. 5 Monday morning, 9:00 AM. The office was buzzing with an electric, nervous energy. Madison was dressed in a pristine white power suit, her makeup flawless. She stood by the entrance like a soldier awaiting inspection. Old Joe had the Cullinan idling at the curb, the paint polished so bright it hurt to look at. Nate was in his best charcoal suit, obsessively checking his Rolex. “How far out is Beaumont?” “He just landed,” Madison replied, her voice trembling slightly with excitement. “Joe is heading to the park entrance now to escort his motorcade in.” It was a matter of etiquette. Beaumont’s security detail would park at the main gate, and our “corporate” car would bring him to the door. “Joe! Go!” Madison shouted. Joe nodded, climbed into the driver’s seat, and pressed the Start button. Nothing happened.

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