Category: English

I don’t know if there is a word in the English language equipped to hold the sheer, suffocating weight of this kind of grief. The betrayal of a wife. The death of a mother. The grotesque revelation that one of the twin boys born just hours ago does not share my blood. These humiliations didn’t just hurt; they wrapped around my throat like an invisible, icy hand, squeezing until the edges of my vision went black. Looking down at my mother’s cooling body in the sterile light of the hospital room, a chasm of guilt opened up inside my chest. She had been standing right beside me outside the delivery suite. We had both heard the muffled, frantic whispers spilling through the crack in the door. “Spencer, I… it’s a medical anomaly. Heteropaternal superfecundation. The one with the birthmark on his wrist is yours. The other one is Carter’s.” “Maddie, are you serious? Jesus, how is that even possible?” “I’m serious. That night, after Carter and I… I came to your hotel. I wasn’t sure, so I paid off the lab tech to rush the DNA test the second they were born. They’re half-brothers, Spencer.” We had watched through the glass as Spencer, my wife’s executive assistant, wept tears of joy, taking his child and leaning down to passionately kiss my wife, Madeline. My mother couldn’t take it. The shock was a physical blow. She collapsed, her heart giving out before she hit the linoleum floor. She never woke up. And now, as I knelt beside her lifeless body, shattered and hollowed out, my phone buzzed. A text from Madeline. Carter, I’m checking into the Serenity Postpartum Retreat in Malibu for the next month to recover. I’m only taking one of the babies with me. The other one is yours to handle. Consider it a crash course in the joys of fatherhood. The double impact of her casual cruelty and my mother’s death hit me like a freight train. My chest seized violently. I doubled over, a sickening, metallic taste flooding my mouth as a dry, racking heave tore through my lungs. … Time did not afford me the luxury of a breakdown. A nurse entered, her face a mask of professional sympathy, holding a swaddled infant. “Mr. Davis? You should hold your son,” she said softly. “Ever since your wife and the other baby left, he hasn’t stopped crying.” He knows, I thought numbly. He knows his mother just threw him away. I raised my bloodshot eyes and slowly turned my head toward the bundle in her arms. My hands were violently shaking as I reached out to take him. For a terrifying, agonizing second, my mind warred with itself. Please, God. Let her have taken the wrong one. Let her have taken the bastard. But as the blanket shifted, revealing two tiny, perfect, unblemished wrists, the last pillar of my sanity crumbled. No birthmark. She knew exactly what she was doing. She abandoned my child to play house with Spencer, taking only the fruit of her infidelity to start their perfect little family. My phone vibrated again. A message from Spencer. Hey man. Don’t worry about Maddie and the little guy, I’ll take good care of them. Consider me the kid’s godfather. A minute later, it was on his Instagram. Two photos. The first was a close-up of his hand intertwined with a soft, manicured one. I recognized that hand. I recognized the custom-designed platinum band resting on her ring finger—the one I had spent months saving for. The second photo was of Spencer, holding his newborn against his chest, his other arm wrapped securely around Madeline’s shoulders as she rested her head against him. Grateful for the two most important people in my life, the caption read. Even while she’s recovering, she refuses to let me and our boy out of her sight. The comments were already rolling in. Mutual colleagues from the firm, clearly confused but leaving strings of congratulatory emojis regardless. I didn’t move. My fingers gripped the edges of my phone so tightly the knuckles turned white, my eyes burning with a manic, tearless heat. What a beautiful family. What a pair of absolutely remorseless monsters. To spare her lover’s feelings, she tossed my son aside under the guise of teaching me a lesson in parenting. The truth was, she just didn’t want my son crying and ruining their honeymoon phase. He was hours old. And his mother had already discarded him. In the crushing silence of the hospital room, I quietly slid my wedding ring off my finger and dropped it into the biohazard bin by the door. Seven years of devotion, reduced to an absolute joke. What should have been the happiest day of my life had turned into a funeral. I handled my mother’s arrangements alone, swallowing the bile of my grief. Madeline never called. She didn’t send a single text. She didn’t ask about the tiny, fragile boy sleeping in a bassinet next to my bed. The night of my mother’s funeral, I called my lawyer and told him to draft the divorce papers. The second she returned from her luxury retreat, it was over. Because the baby was so small, I hired a night nurse. Bills were piling up; grief was a luxury I couldn’t afford. I had to go back to the office. The moment I stepped off the elevator at the firm, the air shifted. The low hum of chatter abruptly died. As I walked down the corridor, eyes tracked my every movement. Pity. Mockery. Disgust. “Did you hear?” a voice hissed from the breakroom. “Two different fathers. Spencer is the dad of one of them.” “No way. You can’t say that out loud.” “I’m serious! My sister works at Cedar-Sinai. She heard the whole thing.” “Spencer’s Instagram post basically confirmed it. ‘Godfather,’ my ass.” “Jesus. Carter has no idea, does he? She cheated on him and stuck him with the leftover kid…” The whispers dug into my flesh like glass shards. The whole world knew I was wearing the horns. I don’t remember walking into my office. I only remember the agonizing, bleeding sensation in the center of my chest. Before I could even catch my breath, my desk phone rang. “Carter? Madeline just called in. Mandatory all-hands in the main conference room. Now.” When I walked in, it was standing room only. On the massive projector screen, Madeline was dialed in via video call, sitting on a sun-drenched patio, holding Spencer’s baby. “While I am on maternity leave,” she announced, her voice crisp and commanding, “I am appointing Spencer as acting CEO. The Harrison acquisition still needs to be finalized. Whoever lands the signed contract gets a massive year-end bonus.” The room collectively shifted, eyes darting toward me. “I thought she’d leave Carter in charge,” someone muttered behind me. “He’s her husband.” “Shut up, he’s right there.” I tuned them out. I zeroed in on the Harrison project. I was divorcing her, and I was resigning, but before I did, I was going to secure that bonus. My son needed a future. The next two weeks were a blur of sleep deprivation and caffeine. I was burning the candle at both ends—bottle-feeding a colicky infant at 3 AM, and crunching financial models at 4 AM. My body was giving out, but my mind was laser-focused. When I finally finished the proposal, it was bulletproof. I reached out to the Harrison reps, and they were ecstatic. I walked back into my office to finalize the printing, and the room spun. The floor rushed up to meet me, and everything went dark. I woke up in an urgent care bed with an IV in my arm. Exhaustion and dehydration, the doctor said. I ripped the needle out the second he turned his back. The Harrison signing was today. By the time I burst through the glass doors of the boardroom, Madeline was there, standing next to Spencer, shaking hands with Mr. Harrison. “I have to say, Spencer, you kept this under wraps,” Harrison was saying. “This proposal is brilliant.” “I thought Carter was heading this up?” an associate whispered. “Not anymore, apparently.” I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I shoved the door open. Spencer had waited until I was unconscious to steal my flash drive. “Spencer,” I said, my voice eerily calm despite the violent trembling in my hands. “When exactly did the project I spent the last two weeks pulling all-nighters to build become yours?” I looked at that smug, pathetic coward, and every muscle in my body begged me to break his jaw. Seeing the sheer, unadulterated murder in my eyes, Spencer physically recoiled, stepping behind Madeline like a frightened child. “Madeline,” Spencer stammered, “I built this deck. Carter’s been so out of it with the baby, I think he’s just confused. He’s trying to steal the credit.” Madeline shot me a look of profound irritation, then turned her brilliant, practiced smile back to Mr. Harrison. “Please excuse this,” she said smoothly. “I offered a substantial bonus for this acquisition. It seems to have brought out the worst in some people. But I assure you, my assistant, Spencer, is the sole architect of this deal.” Mr. Harrison’s expression hardened into one of absolute disgust as he looked at me. “Unbelievable,” Harrison muttered. “To try and steal a colleague’s work for a payout. Have some dignity, man.” The room erupted into harsh, mocking laughter. “Carter actually tried it.” “Desperate times, I guess.” “Maybe he’s just acting out because of… you know.” I was standing there, the punchline to a joke I hadn’t consented to be a part of. The humiliation peaked, boiling over into blind rage. I lunged forward, bypassing Madeline entirely, and drove my fist squarely into Spencer’s face. He hit the floor with a satisfying crunch. “You don’t get to steal my blood, sweat, and tears,” I roared. Madeline’s face drained of color. She immediately ordered security to escort Mr. Harrison out, desperate to contain the PR nightmare. The second the doors closed, she marched up to me and slapped me across the face. The crack echoed in the empty boardroom. She froze, her hand hovering in the air, a flicker of shock in her own eyes. In seven years, we had never raised our voices, let alone a hand to one another. Now, to protect the man she was sleeping with, she had struck me. “Are you out of your mind?!” she hissed. “You had to humiliate me in front of Harrison? If you needed money that badly, I would have just written you a check! You didn’t have to throw a tantrum and steal Spencer’s work!” She didn’t even ask for my side of the story. It wouldn’t have mattered if I showed her the metadata on the files. She had made her choice. Spencer, clutching his bleeding nose, scrambled up and put a placating hand on her arm. “Maddie, let it go. Don’t fight with your husband over me.” Husband. The word sounded obscene coming from him. The foundation of our marriage wasn’t just cracked; it was pulverized. I let out a low, humorless laugh. My eyes were burning, wet with a profound, soul-deep disappointment. Madeline saw my face and something in her faltered. She opened her mouth, stepping toward me— I unclipped my company ID badge and let it drop to the carpet. “I’ll have the divorce papers and my formal resignation sent to your email by tonight, Madeline.” I turned on my heel and walked out. She stood frozen, completely blindsided. She had assumed I would endure anything. As she took a step to follow me, Spencer grabbed her wrist. “Maddie, stop. We need to go back to the hotel,” he pleaded. “My mom called. The baby won’t stop crying. He needs his mother.” That was all it took. The hesitation vanished. She turned her back on me and rushed out the side door with her lover. I watched her go from the end of the hallway. It was so easy for her. She was rushing home because a child needed a mother. She had completely forgotten about the one sitting in my apartment, who needed one just as badly. It’s okay, little guy, I thought. We don’t need her. When I got to my apartment, I could hear my son wailing through the door. My heart broke a little more. She was across town comforting someone else’s child, completely indifferent to the existence of her own. I picked him up, pacing the living room, murmuring softly until his cries dissolved into heavy, exhausted breaths against my shoulder. Just as he finally drifted off, my phone lit up on the coffee table. A FaceTime call from Spencer. I reached to decline it, but my thumb slipped, accepting the call. The sudden burst of audio startled the baby, who immediately began to cry again. But I couldn’t move to comfort him. I was paralyzed, staring at the screen. It was dark, lit only by a bedside lamp, but I could clearly see the two naked bodies tangled together in the sheets. “Spencer, wait, be careful. I just had a baby,” Madeline was whispering, her voice breathy and heavy. “I got you. I’m being gentle.” “Just… one last time before I go back,” she murmured. “I’ve neglected Carter so much lately because of you. The way he looked at me today… I’m terrified I’m going to lose him, Spencer. Why did you have to steal his project? You made me look like an idiot defending you.” She slapped his chest playfully, but the reprimand dissolved instantly as he pulled her under him, her sighs filling my living room. He hadn’t butt-dialed me. He had done this on purpose. A guttural, animalistic sound tore from my throat. I screamed at the screen, hurling curses at the two of them, but they had muted their end. I was just a captive audience to my own destruction. She knew. Madeline knew the project was mine. And she still chose to destroy my reputation to protect his ego. Something inside me, the last frayed string tethering me to the woman I thought I knew, snapped. The love didn’t just die; it evaporated into a cold, hard vacuum. I threw the phone against the brick wall. It shattered into a dozen pieces. I couldn’t stay here. This condo was hers—bought before we were married. I remembered the day we moved in, overhearing her snooty sorority sisters laughing in the kitchen, calling me a charity case. I had swallowed my pride for years, working myself to the bone to prove I belonged in her world. All for nothing. I packed my bags before the sun came up. I left the signed divorce papers on the kitchen island. I secured my son in his car seat, ready to walk out the door and never look back. But just as my hand hit the doorknob, the lock clicked. Madeline walked in, carrying Spencer’s child. The second she saw me, her face lit up with a sickeningly sweet, fabricated relief. She walked right up to me and pressed her free hand to my chest. “Carter, I’m home!” she breathed. “I know you and the baby must have missed us so much.” Missed us. The audacity was so staggering it bordered on psychotic. I looked at her—this woman who hours ago was writhing in another man’s bed—and felt absolutely nothing but a cold, sterile disgust. I stepped back, letting her hand fall away. “Carter? What’s wrong?” Her brow furrowed, playing the innocent wife perfectly. “Are you still pouting over the project thing?” I didn’t say a word. I just watched her dig her own grave. Right on cue, the baby in her arms started to fuss. Her eyes lit up. She held him out toward me. “Look, you haven’t even really looked at him yet. Come hold him, Carter.” I raised my hand and slapped her across the face. Hard. She had been gone for a month. She hadn’t even looked toward the nursery to check on her own flesh and blood, and her first instinct was to force me to hold her bastard.

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The year Arthur loved me the most, I became his uncle’s kept woman. The older, dominant man smiled carelessly and told him: “Consider this your first lesson. What you value is nothing but a plaything in the eyes of others.” Arthur hated me to the core. In the end, he agreed to go abroad and accept an arranged marriage. On the day of his grand wedding. I boarded a flight out of the country as fast as I could. With Arthur successfully married, my contract with his young uncle was over. That cold, unfeeling man would no longer protect me. If I stayed in the country, Arthur would kill me. 1 [Oh my god, I just got news, Arthur is coming back to the country tomorrow.] [What? @Chloe, sis, take care of yourself!] [What is she afraid of? Doesn’t she have him protecting her? No matter how much Arthur hates Chloe, she’s still his uncle’s woman.] [Ah, that’s true.] I looked at the messages in the group chat, my face turning pale. It wasn’t like that at all. “What’s wrong?” The man closed his laptop, reaching out to caress my waist, his voice indifferent. I looked up, meeting those pitch-black eyes. “Arthur is coming back?” I asked softly. A half-smile played on the man’s lips: “Why, missed him?” I leaned into his embrace, silent for a long moment, then smiled and acted spoiled: “What if he comes back to get revenge on me? You have to help me.” Alexander Vance pinched my chin, saying carelessly: “He wouldn’t dare.” I instantly froze. How is that possible? I still haven’t forgotten the look in Arthur’s eyes back then. Besides pain, there was overwhelming hatred. Towards Alexander, and towards me. Thinking of this, I subconsciously shivered, then shook Alexander’s arm, “Better safe than sorry. Anyway, when he comes after me, you have to stop him.” Alexander didn’t answer. His long, elegant fingers untied the ribbon at my waist. With a gentle tug, the bow came undone. “Is this the gift you mentioned this afternoon?” he chuckled. He didn’t answer me directly. Which was an answer in itself. But I was truly worried. I knew full well that Arthur had a terrible temper and always held a grudge. I held Alexander’s hand, looking at him stubbornly, wanting a definite promise. The smile in Alexander’s eyes cooled. He said calmly: “Know your place.” …Know my place. Even though Alexander was only seven years older than Arthur, he was the younger brother of Arthur’s father, Arthur’s biological uncle. And even the reason I was kept by Alexander’s side was for him to pave the way for Arthur. I quieted down and let go of his hand. The next second, Alexander swept me into his arms and threw me onto the bed. 2 My first meeting with Alexander was at Arthur’s twentieth birthday party. Arthur held my hand and introduced me to Alexander: “Uncle Alex, this is my girlfriend.” Alexander, who had been conversing with others with a lazy expression, slightly turned his head upon hearing this. I chimed in: “Hello Uncle Alex, I’m Chloe.” The man casually swept his gaze over me, didn’t respond, and turned back. Arthur pulled me away, scoffing: “Don’t mind him, my young uncle is just like that, looks down on everyone.” I nodded, “Seems like your whole family is like that.” Arthur wasn’t happy about that. He pinched my cheek, “Haven’t I been good to you?” I smiled and didn’t argue. But actually, when Arthur and I first met, he acted so arrogant, never looking anyone in the eye. At the birthday party, Arthur held my hand tightly. He introduced me to everyone he met as his girlfriend. No matter how many people hinted, overtly or covertly, that the Vance family had already found him a fiancée, he completely ignored them, and so did I. So much so that later, I was invited to the top-floor office of the corporate tower. A secretary respectfully placed a contract in front of me. Alexander lifted his eyelids: “Arthur is young and hasn’t seen much of the world. You two aren’t a match.” He wanted me to leave Arthur. I flipped to the price page of the contract and smiled: “Too little.” Then I held up five fingers to him. The man’s face was cold, showing no emotion: “You’re not worth this price.” “Really?” I curved my eyes, drawing out the end of my sentence, “Am I really not worth it? Uncle—” The atmosphere almost froze. Alexander narrowed his eyes. After a long time. He tapped the table, and the secretary took the contract away. The air conditioning in the office was strong, or perhaps the oppressive aura around Alexander was too intense, making one feel uncomfortable all over. But I still looked at him with a smiling face. This was also the first time he looked me directly in the eye. Alexander smiled, a very cold smile, completely devoid of emotion. But his tone softened as he told the secretary: “Draft a new contract.” —A sugar baby contract. Alexander wanted to use concrete actions to tell Arthur. A woman like me wasn’t worth it. That day. Arthur excitedly went to find Alexander: “Uncle Alex, Valentine’s Day is coming up, what do you think I should get…” He pushed open the office door. Alexander had me wrapped in his arms. Arthur’s footsteps froze in place. I looked up and said to him apologetically: “I’m with your uncle now.” Arthur stared at me in disbelief. Unable to accept it, he smashed several vases in a row, then asked me with a cold laugh: “Should I call you Auntie now?” Alexander caressed my neck, “She’s not worthy yet.” Arthur was stunned. The older, dominant man smiled carelessly and told him: “Consider this your first lesson. What you value is nothing but a plaything in the eyes of others.” The corners of Arthur’s eyes reddened. He pushed Alexander away. Then he gripped my shoulders tightly, his voice trembling: “I cherished you so much… why, why did you betray me?” He was very strong, it hurt so much I gasped in pain. I still managed to wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes. I didn’t ask him, since he cherished me, why was he kissing another woman when I was most worried about money? I will never forget the look in Arthur’s eyes when he left. Besides pain, there was only overwhelming hatred. Later I learned. He agreed to go abroad and accept the arranged marriage he had always refused. But I thought, after Arthur went abroad, Alexander would kick me to the curb. I never expected that I would stay by his side for four years. Later I understood. Alexander was waiting for Arthur to get married. Waiting for Arthur to obediently marry the perfect match chosen by the family and have children, waiting for the dust to settle. As long as I was by Alexander’s side for even one day. There was absolutely no possibility between Arthur and me. 3 I wore a short cocktail dress, holding onto Alexander’s arm. In the bustling, lively banquet hall, the lights were brilliant, accompanied by soothing, melodious music, glasses clinking. I secretly gritted my teeth. What was the point of me, the ex-girlfriend, attending Arthur’s welcome-back party? But Alexander insisted on bringing me. Along the way, people greeted Alexander, and he casually nodded to all of them. Until we saw the person at the center of attention not far away. My steps halted. Alexander glanced at me, his dark eyes unfathomable, his smile faint: “Afraid to go over?” I was silent for a moment, but still walked over holding his arm. Arthur, holding a wine glass, raised his eyes. Watching Alexander and me walk towards him step by step. Four years had passed. Arthur had matured a lot. The former flamboyance was gone, replaced by an indescribable, complex aura. He spoke calmly: “Uncle Alex.” The hatred and hysteria from four years ago were gone, calm without any ripples. Ultimately, they shared blood, they were uncle and nephew. No matter the hatred, four years had dissipated it. “Long time no see.” Alexander spoke indifferently. Arthur nodded, suddenly smiling, “Yes, it has been.” As he spoke, an elegant and beautiful woman appeared gracefully, walking up to Arthur. She first reminded Arthur to drink less, then smiled and looked over: “Mr. Vance.” Alexander nodded, “Just call me Uncle Alex like Arthur does.” The woman smoothly adapted: “Uncle Alex.” Alexander gave a “Hmm.” I supposed this was the fiancée they had carefully selected for Arthur. I kept my eyes down, trying my best to minimize my presence. Unexpectedly, Arthur didn’t speak. Instead, his fiancée smiled and said: “This must be Miss Chloe? I’ve heard so much about you.” With that, she raised her glass to me, “A toast to Miss Chloe.” A waiter came over with a tray holding exactly five glasses of liquor, all full. I twitched the corner of my mouth: “Is this… for me to drink all of them?” She smiled warmly: “To thank you for taking care of Arthur in the past years.” I picked up a glass and sniffed it gently. Extremely high-proof liquor, definitely not something meant to be consumed at a banquet. This was prepared specifically for me. My alcohol tolerance had always been low. If I downed these five glasses, even if I didn’t end up in the hospital, I’d throw up everything I had, and it would severely damage my stomach. With so many people at the banquet. She just wanted to humiliate me. Whether it was to get revenge for Arthur’s past or to establish her authority as the future Mrs. Vance. Arthur glanced casually, then looked away. I turned to look at Alexander, meeting those pitch-black eyes. Alexander didn’t stop her. His fingertips carelessly caressed the cutout on the waist of my dress. He tacitly agreed. He tacitly allowed Arthur’s fiancée to embarrass me. I tilted my head back and downed the glass in one gulp. The moment the liquor rolled down my throat, it felt like swallowing red-hot iron nails, incredibly spicy. The alcohol content was even higher than I imagined. The corners of my eyes heated up uncontrollably, and the edges of my vision started to blur. Damn. It tasted awful. Just one glass and I wanted to throw up. The waiter handed the second glass to me. My fingertips trembled, and I decisively fell into Alexander’s arms. He caught me. “So dizzy…” I whispered. Alexander didn’t speak, but his thumb wiped away the tears at the corner of my eyes. The remaining four glasses were forgotten. The woman could only smile: “Our wedding is next week, you are welcome to attend.” My voice was hoarse as I said: “Happy wedding in advance.” As for the wedding, I couldn’t attend. The day of their wedding was also the day Alexander would transfer my final payment. So my flight out of the country was also booked for that day. 4 Just one glass, and my stomach was already churning. For the rest of the banquet, Alexander kept his arm around my waist, and I didn’t say another word. As the event was winding down, my steps had already begun to falter. Alexander carried me directly to the presidential suite on the upper floors of the hotel, remaining silent the entire time. I don’t hate Alexander. Not because I took his money, but because my hatred is insignificant to him, so why waste my emotional energy? But the good thing is, I still have money to take. A cold ex turned into warm cash. Thinking of this, I chuckled groggily. When Alexander finished his shower and came out wrapped in a bathrobe, this was the scene he saw. “What are you laughing at?” His voice was deep. Propping my head up, I lay on the bed and looked up. The man’s bathrobe was tied loosely, revealing a large expanse of his chest, even faintly showing his abs. He sat down next to me carelessly, his gaze falling on my face. I couldn’t exactly tell him I was imagining a beautiful future abroad with all that money, could I? I gently played with his fingers, “If it weren’t for you, I would have passed out drunk down there today.” Then, I beamed at him: “Thank you.” Did you catch the sarcasm? If I hadn’t been quick-witted enough to fall into your arms, I would have drank myself to death. Alexander paused. He looked at me for a long time, finally pinching my chin and kissing me. … When I woke up again, it was past midnight. My stomach still felt uncomfortable. I carefully slipped out of Alexander’s embrace. Thankfully, he didn’t wake up. His brows were slightly furrowed; he wasn’t sleeping very peacefully either. I threw on a coat, opened the door, and planned to go to the convenience store to buy some porridge. Only to see a figure leaning against the wall in the corridor. The person was holding a cigarette, his expression indifferent. Hearing the noise, he turned, and our eyes met. There were two presidential suites on this floor; maybe he was staying in the other one. I moved my lips, but ultimately didn’t say anything, bypassing him to walk towards the elevator. My wrist was grabbed, and I stopped. He didn’t speak either, and the two of us just stood there in a stalemate. Finally, I broke the silence: “You never used to smoke.” He tugged at his lips: “People can’t stay in the past forever.” I gave a soft “Hmm.” Arthur lifted his eyelids, his tone calm: “Mia was very happy tonight. If you had finished the wine, she would have been even happier.” I froze for a second, realizing he was talking about his fiancée, Mia. I didn’t know what to say and tried to pull my hand away. But he wouldn’t let go, “It’s so late, where are you going?” Me: “Stomach hurts, buying porridge.” A trace of mockery flashed in Arthur’s eyes, and he sneered: “Chloe, you brought this on yourself.” He scoffed: “You are nothing in Alexander’s eyes.” Of course I know that. But I can’t admit it! After all, Alexander is still my sugar daddy right now. I smiled, looked into Arthur’s eyes, and said earnestly: “You misunderstand him. I didn’t drink the remaining four glasses, and that was all thanks to him.” Yeah, because when I fell into his arms, he didn’t push me away. “Really?” Arthur seemed to be mocking my naivety, “Then did you know that Alexander is getting married?” …What? I was stunned. Seeing through my expression, Arthur said lazily: “He didn’t tell you, which is normal. Saves him the annoyance of you making a scene.” I paused, digesting this for a moment. Then I sighed in my heart. This day was bound to come. I’m leaving on the day of Arthur’s wedding anyway. As for whether Alexander gets married, or who he marries, it has nothing to do with me anymore. After a long silence, I finally noticed Arthur’s gaze fixed heavily on my neck. I looked down. …A reddened hickey. He reached out his hand. I took a step back, my spine hitting the cold wall. Arthur planted one hand on the wall and pinched my jaw with the other. He said darkly: “Can that old man satisfy you?” Gritting my teeth, I tried to push him away, but he grabbed my wrist behind my back: “You’re crazy!” Arthur’s nose brushed against my cheek, and he enunciated every word: “Chloe, you are a fickle, unfaithful woman.” But after saying that, he leaned in to kiss me. Right then. My phone rang in the empty hallway. It was Alexander’s custom ringtone. Arthur’s movements stopped. The ringtone kept playing, like a symphony of death. My fingertips trembled, and I finally pressed the answer button. Alexander’s calm voice came through the receiver: “Get your ass back here.” Those few words seemed to come from not far away, echoing in the spacious hallway. I abruptly looked up. The cold-faced man stood at the door of the suite, looking at Arthur and me with emotionless dark eyes. I didn’t know when Alexander had come out, or how much of our conversation he had heard. My heart sank halfway. Alexander had caught me entangled with Arthur. He wasn’t going to deduct my pay, was he? I silently walked towards Alexander. Arthur watched coldly, then turned and went back into the other suite.

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I was spoiled rotten by my family, and I never treated my fiancé like a proper human being. If his tone was too harsh, I cried. If he didn’t report his schedule to me on time, I cried. If he was too aggressive in bed, I cried. Until one day, I started seeing lines of floating text like live-stream comments. [Doesn’t the male lead prefer resilient, innocent girls? How can he stand this spoiled, arrogant heiress for so long?] [Ugh, I seriously can’t stand the female supporting character. When is the male lead going to bankrupt her family for the true heroine?!] [I really want to see this spoiled princess end up as a beggar on the streets~ Hahaha.] Bankrupt? A beggar? No way, absolutely not. Terrified, I stopped throwing tantrums and picking fights with him, and I actively started keeping my distance. But to my surprise, he became incredibly paranoid, convinced that “wild dogs” outside were trying to seduce me. He even started gaslighting me constantly: “Those wild men out there are only after your money and your looks.” “Only me—I let you use me however you want, and every cent I earn is just for you to spend.” 1 When the floating comments appeared, I had just finished undressing and was begging him to play some special games with me. “Darling~ Everyone else has tried it, I want to try playing like that too.” “If you don’t agree, I’m going to cry right here and show you…” Before I could finish my threat, I saw the comments. I was so startled I almost bit my tongue. Arthur held my waist, sighed, and his tone was a bit heavy: “No. Stop messing around.” [Even though I really want to see it, I just want to say, this kind of ‘service’ is strictly reserved for the true heroine. The supporting character is asking for way too much.] [Just thinking about the ‘blissful’ life the male and female leads are going to have according to the synopsis makes me drool.] I instinctively looked down at the man in front of me. The thought that he would be intimate with someone else in the future made me feel incredibly wronged. But then I recalled the very first comments I saw… My family was going to be bankrupted by Arthur in the future, and I, a spoiled princess, was going to become a beggar. Compared to that, Arthur getting intimate with someone else didn’t seem so important anymore. I pouted, my mind racing, but the more I thought about it, the more wronged I felt. This bastard was going to bankrupt my family for another woman. But once I thought it through, I still compromised. I carefully climbed off him. I timidly pulled the covers over myself. Arthur watched my series of movements, stunned for a moment. It took him a good while to squeeze out a few words: “It’s only eleven o’clock.” I was an addict. Once I got a taste, I would keep him up until midnight every time, refusing to let him sleep until he had served me perfectly. I turned around and looked at him with teary eyes. I acted exceptionally understanding: “I was being unreasonable. I disturbed your rest. You should go to sleep early.” He didn’t say a word, his face just turning exceptionally dark. After speaking, I even thoughtfully pulled the covers up over him. Then I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep. 2 But I couldn’t fall asleep no matter what. I suddenly realized I wasn’t wearing anything. I always liked sleeping naked, but in the past, Arthur hated it the most. At first, whenever I slept naked, he would get frustrated and get up to take cold showers multiple times a night. He’d even scold me and tell me to put some clothes on. But every time, I’d cry, put them on feeling indignant, then take them off again, and yell at him fiercely: “This is how I sleep in my own house! If you don’t like it, don’t sleep with me!” Then I’d sulk by myself, and Arthur would ultimately have to compromise. Thinking about it now, he probably thought I was dirty, which is why he took so many showers. I threw off the covers. He opened his eyes and instinctively reached out his hand toward me. I completely ignored it and started to get up to put some clothes on. Looking at the sexy nightgown draped over the foot of the bed, I hesitated not at all and went straight to the closet to dig out a long-sleeved, long-pants pajama set. After buttoning the very top button of the pajamas. Arthur finally spoke: “Why are you putting clothes on?” I looked at him, smiled, and said naturally: “To sleep, duh!” Meeting his surprised and confused gaze, I thoughtfully added: “Otherwise, I can just go sleep in the guest room.” I thought he would be thrilled that I was finally letting him get a peaceful night’s sleep. Instead, he got up with a stony face and took long strides toward me. “I don’t have any morning meetings tomorrow. I’m not going to the office until the afternoon.” “Stop throwing a tantrum.” I looked at him, not understanding what his explanation was supposed to mean. But I caught a subtle difference in his tone. It was unhappiness and impatience. I had seen a lot of floating comments earlier. One of them mentioned that the “true heroine” everyone was talking about was currently working as an intern assistant right by Arthur’s side. His unhappiness… could it be because he couldn’t wait to go see that heroine tomorrow morning? In the past, I used to complain a lot about Arthur being too busy. I even threatened to break off the engagement and find someone else for a corporate marriage who had time to keep me company. Because of that, Arthur had no choice but to take half a day off every few days just to stay home with me. Which resulted in him frequently having to work overtime until midnight. Thinking about it, I decided I better be more understanding now. Otherwise, he’d just grow to hate me more and more. Once he caught feelings for the heroine, I’d really become a beggar. I’ve only lived the good life for twenty-something years; I haven’t had enough yet. Even though my heart felt uncomfortable, I forced down the sour feeling, pouted, and said: “You… you should go to work early tomorrow. You don’t need to stay with me.” The moment the words left my mouth, Arthur’s face turned completely black, like the bottom of a cast-iron skillet. “What are you throwing a fit about now?” I didn’t say anything, just looked straight up at him. He looked down at me, turned around, and walked away. The moment the door closed, his tone was far from pleasant. “Chloe, my patience has limits. I can’t keep indulging your baseless tantrums forever.” 3 I was heartbroken for a long time because of that sentence. I tossed and turned all night, unable to figure out where exactly I had thrown a tantrum. I was clearly being so understanding. But eventually, I managed to fall asleep. When I got up in the morning, I opened the door of the adjacent guest room. I wandered around the 3,000-square-foot penthouse. There was no sign of Arthur. He really couldn’t wait to get to the office to see that heroine. I listlessly ate the breakfast left for me in the microwave. Still fuming, I turned around and texted my older brother. [I want to break off the engagement with Arthur!] My brother immediately blew up when he saw the message and FaceTimed me right away. “Tell me, did that bastard Arthur make you angry again?!” I didn’t dare tell my brother about the floating comments. Feeling stifled and suffocated, my lips trembled, and I burst into tears, crying out: “He doesn’t love me at all.” My brother nagged and coaxed me for a long time. Finally, he asked with heartache: “Do you really not want to be with him anymore?” I nodded. He added: “Then we’ll call it off!” “But our family’s joint project with the Sterling family isn’t finished yet. Let’s milk them for a huge sum, and then call it off, okay? Then you can use the money we made off him to keep ten or eight toy boys. That’ll piss him off.” “How dare he not love my family’s little princess! The audacity!” I thought about it. The sky is big, the earth is big, but money is the biggest. Delaying the breakup a bit was fine. “Chloe, let me tell you something. Men are nothing. In this world, besides our dad and me, no man is reliable.” The next second, I saw my brother transfer five million dollars to my account. I beamed, nodding furiously: “Mhm! I knew you loved me the most.” I flatteringly kissed my phone screen several times. 4 Meanwhile, at the company, Arthur had checked his phone who knows how many times. He had been at the office for a full four hours today, and the message in the chat box: [Breakfast is in the microwave, remember to eat.] Remained unanswered. Not to mention, there was no sign of the usual ‘good morning’ or the routine check-in messages. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, he picked up his phone and checked the home security cameras. He saw the person who was “throwing a tantrum” last night lounging on the sofa with her legs crossed, laughing so hard she was shaking. She was kissing her phone screen over and over again, saying affectionately: “I love you the most.” When a male voice from the phone on the camera feed replied, “I love you the most too!” Arthur completely lost it. The veins on the hand gripping the phone bulged instantly. With a loud smack, he threw the phone onto the desk. He leaned back helplessly in his chair, tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and exhaled a heavy breath. As if forcefully suppressing the raging fire in his heart, he said through gritted teeth: “So that’s how it is.” “Chloe, you’ve really done it this time.” 5 Since I had made up my mind to break the engagement, I needed to start keeping my distance from Arthur immediately. So I didn’t send him a single message all day. Even when he got off work, I didn’t urge him to hurry home. After taking a fragrant bath, I very sensibly moved all my things to another guest bedroom. Just as I finished packing, I pulled out my phone. I saw several messages from Arthur. [Do you want some wontons from Joyful Dumplings?] [I’ll buy some on my way home.] [???] [Or I can come back and pick you up, and we can eat at the restaurant?] … [You’re not home?] There was only a camera in the living room. I had been busy in the bedroom packing my clothes and cosmetics the whole time. I hadn’t even turned on the lights in the living room. I looked at the long string of messages that came after. [Where did you go?] [Reply.] [It’s going to rain tonight, come home early.] … [Friends are hosting a get-together, I’ll be home late.] [Never mind, I’m not coming home.] Seeing the last message, I quickly typed a reply. [Okay.] The moment the message sent, Arthur’s call came in. His tone was extremely displeased: “The message I just sent meant I’m not coming home tonight.” I nodded and said flatly: “I know!” He added: “I’m going out drinking.” I obediently replied with an “Okay.” There was a long silence on the other end, followed by a beep as he hung up the phone. Not long after, the front door of the penthouse opened. Arthur threw his car keys onto the entryway table with a clack. When he looked up and saw me at home, the expression on his face softened significantly. I looked him up and down and saw he was carrying a takeout box from Joyful Dumplings. I was stunned: “Didn’t you say you were going out drinking?” He looked at me, his lips pressed into a thin line, and said casually: “I got stood up.” I blinked, looking at the takeout box in his hand. He looked down: “I passed by and picked it up on the way.” Joyful Dumplings was in the night market district on the Southside, but our penthouse and his company were downtown, and his company was more towards the Northside. This “on the way” was a bit of a stretch. He opened the box, and sure enough, it was the small wontons. I used to love the wontons from that place the most, but they didn’t offer delivery, so you always had to go buy them yourself. In the past, whenever I got hungry in the middle of the night, I’d threaten Arthur to go buy them for me. If he didn’t want to go, I’d throw a fit and say: “If you don’t go, it means you don’t love me.” Even though he was reluctant, by the time I finished taking a shower, he would already have his clothes on and be out the door to buy them for me. But today, I didn’t really have the appetite for them. In the afternoon, my brother had ordered a ton of food for me: cupcakes, boba tea, and some unhealthy but delicious junk food. Now my stomach was completely full, and I had zero appetite. He watched me not taking a bite for a long time, then turned to look at the various takeout bags and boxes on the coffee table. He frowned, turned around, and started cleaning them up. “Eat less garbage…” Before he could finish, he saw the name “Mr. Q” on the delivery receipts. His hand froze, and he took a deep breath: “Junk food.” He gritted his teeth, and after a long pause, added: “Especially when it’s ordered by some shady character.” Every word sounded like it was ground out from between his teeth. I wasn’t happy hearing that. “Those are all my favorite foods.” He scoffed: “Are you two that close already? He even knows what you like to eat.” I nodded matter-of-factly: “Of course. Besides my dad, he’s the man who loves me the most in the world.” That sentence seemed to trigger something in him. With a bang, he threw my unfinished boba tea into the trash can. When he turned around, his face was as black as the bottom of a pot. 6 He went back to the bedroom and saw that all my things had been moved out. He came out with a dark face again. “Where’s your stuff?” I blinked, the boba he just threw in the trash still in my mouth. I thought it was a waste, so I fished it out. Luckily, there was nothing else in the trash can, so it was still drinkable. Arthur looked at the untouched wontons on the dining table, then looked at me. His anger spiked: “Is the stuff he orders really that good?!” I nodded: “It’s delicious.” The door was slammed shut with a bang again. If it were my usual temper, if he dared to throw a fit at me, I would have torn the roof off. I took a huge sip and puffed my cheeks out: “I’m going to drink it! I’m going to drink a huge gulp!” But half an hour later, I was completely dumbfounded looking at the twenty cups of boba tea at the door. Just as I was about to bring them inside, a large hand reached out from behind me. Arthur gave me a sidelong glance. He said breezily: “They’re all your favorite flavors.” My mouth dropped open. I remembered he was just throwing a tantrum at me. Okay, he was definitely throwing a tantrum at me. He put the boba away, then went back to his room with a cold face. Watching him close the door, I didn’t think much of it. I turned and went to the guest room. I don’t know if it was because of the boba or because I wasn’t used to the bed. I couldn’t fall asleep no matter what. Eventually, I took out my phone and started reading a web novel. As I read, the tears wouldn’t stop. Just as I was wondering how the male lead could torture the female lead so badly… The bedroom door opened. Arthur climbed into my bed. He suddenly said coldly: “Break it off with him, and I won’t hold this against you.” I didn’t say anything. He just flipped my body over. Seeing my face covered in tears, he panicked. I sobbed and complained about the male lead in the angst novel: “How can he be so mean?!” Arthur gritted his teeth. “What did that bastard do to you?” “Break up with him, stop contacting him. He’s only going to hurt you.” “Those wild men out there are only after your money and your looks. Otherwise, he wouldn’t order you cheap junk food and only get you one cup of boba.” “Unlike me. I let you sleep with me, and every cent I earn is just for you to spend. Sleep however you want, spend as much as you want. I’m never stingy.” I sniffled, not understanding what he was talking about. Just as I was about to ask. My phone chimed, and the screen lit up. It was a message from my brother. QZ: [Little treasure, are you still sad?] I picked up my phone and replied: [Not sad anymore~] Arthur, who was next to me, snatched the phone away. He said in disbelief: “Chloe, you forgave him after one little question?” “Then what am I?” The next second, ding, the screen lit up again. [He’s just a clown.] I quickly snatched the phone back. Looking at him, I said, feeling a bit guilty: “He’s not talking about you, do you believe that?” He didn’t speak. His lips were just pressed into a thin line. It looked like he didn’t believe it. Seeing him like this, the comment “spoiled princess becomes a beggar” flashed in my mind. I instantly felt cowardly. I carefully reached out and tugged at his pajamas. “Are you mad?” He let out a muffled “Mhm.” My voice went soft as I shook his sleeve: “Don’t be mad, okay~” His voice was a bit heavy as he reluctantly replied: “Okay.” 7 Arthur was like a piece of doggy plaster, refusing to leave no matter what. Originally, this wouldn’t have been a big deal. But after lying there for a short while, he started getting all clingy again. He started kissing my face, then kissing my lips. Finally, those hands disobeyed orders and slipped into my pajamas. He rubbed affectionately against my ear, his voice low and raspy: “Can you sleep wearing clothes?” I mumbled groggily. His hands started unbuttoning my clothes. I had gone straight to bed after showering; there was nothing under my pajamas. Once stripped completely bare, my sleepiness completely vanished. I grabbed his wandering hands, trembling as I said: “What are you doing?!” He pinched my waist and kissed my lips. “Do you still want to play that game from last night?” This damn seducer. I hesitated for a moment, thought about it, and my mind spun: “Are you begging me?” “Yeah, I’m begging you to love me.” I internally scoffed at the floating comments. See? He’s the one begging to play with me. He’s forcing me. I’m not some vicious supporting character, and I’m definitely not cannon fodder. I lifted my chin and hooked my arms around his neck. I said haughtily: “Fine, then I’ll take good care of you tonight.” He buried his face in the crook of my neck and kissed it, his tone carrying a faint smile: “Okay~” In the middle of the night, today’s Arthur not only took direction well but was incredibly gentle. I was very satisfied. I was almost reluctant to give him up to the heroine. When it was over, he carried me to take a nice, fragrant shower, then held me as I fell into a deep sleep. … Not long after, the steady sound of breathing came from the person next to him. Arthur quietly picked up the phone from under the pillow. He skillfully entered the passcode and meticulously scrolled through the WeChat history. He accurately found the chat box labeled “QZ.” He clicked in and glanced at the username: Super Invincible Handsome Guy. Arthur looked at it, momentarily speechless, and cursed “wild dog” in his head. He then scrolled through the chat. There were only a few sparse sentences. The very first sentence was: [I want to break off the engagement with Arthur!] Seeing that sentence, Arthur felt a sharp pain in his chest. He really couldn’t figure out what he had done wrong recently to make her want to call off the engagement. Was it because he didn’t let her play that game last night? But it wasn’t that he didn’t want to. It was just that they had played a little too rough recently, and he had accidentally hurt her. That’s why he refused. He looked at the message: [He’s just a clown.] He let out a light scoff. A wild dog trying to sow discord dared to call him a clown. He raised his hand and typed a few words. [Want to meet up tomorrow?] He didn’t expect the other party to reply instantly with an “Okay.” Arthur was furious. Still replying to messages in the middle of the night. Must be a playboy, definitely a deadbeat loser. And he thinks he can compete with him? He didn’t hesitate to type in a time and address for tomorrow’s meeting. He prepared to meet this wild dog face-to-face, throw a check at him, and tell him to get the hell away. He deleted the chat records on the phone. Not only did he mute notifications for the man’s chat, he also hid the conversation entirely. Only then did he finally hold the person next to him, satisfied, and fall into a deep sleep.

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My family arranged for me to marry into the Sterling conglomerate, and both families sat down together to discuss the wedding details. My parents asked me who I wanted to marry. Figuring I had to marry someone anyway, I casually pointed at Ezra Sterling, whom I had known for years. Before I could even speak, a barrage of text comments suddenly materialized and floated across my vision. [Is this female supporting character a glutton for punishment? There are so many men in the world, why does she have to cling to the male lead? So disgusting!] [It’s fine. The female lead is already pregnant with a mind-reading miracle baby anyway. Eventually, everyone will find out about all the terrible things the female supporting character did.] [So trashy. Can the female supporting character just die off already? I want to see the female lead and her cute baby!] [Let me give you a spoiler: the female supporting character dies a miserable death. Her family goes bankrupt, the male lead doesn’t love her, her friends are all useless trash, and in the end, she jumps off a building wearing stolen clothes and dies!] Seeing these comments, my heart leaped into my throat. Only one thought echoed in my mind: whatever the hell was going on, under no circumstances could I choose Ezra Sterling. So, I subtly shifted my hand and pointed directly at the Sterling family’s notorious playboy: “I choose him!” 1 “These are all the unmarried boys in the Sterling family. Chloe, take your pick.” As soon as Grandpa Sterling finished speaking, everyone in the private dining room looked at me. I scanned the room, my eyes landing on Ezra Sterling. I looked at him; he looked at me. The moment our eyes met, he gave me a slight nod. The implication was clear: I was allowed to choose him. I reached out my hand and pointed at Ezra: “Then I’ll choose Ez…” Before the words could leave my mouth, a flood of text comments drifted across my vision. [Is this female supporting character a glutton for punishment? There are so many men in the world, why does she have to cling to the male lead? So disgusting!] [It’s fine. The female lead is already pregnant with a mind-reading miracle baby anyway. Eventually, everyone will find out about all the terrible things the female supporting character did.] [So trashy. Can the female supporting character just die off already? I want to see the female lead and her cute baby!] [Let me give you a spoiler: the female supporting character dies a miserable death. Her family goes bankrupt, the male lead doesn’t love her, her friends are all useless trash, and in the end, she jumps off a building wearing stolen clothes and dies!] There was even a “Next Page” button below, showing 999+ comments. Female supporting character? Me? Did I commit some grave sin against the heavens? I agree to a business marriage, and as a result, my family goes bankrupt, and I end up jumping off a building and dying? I usually enjoy reading web novels, including those with live comment sections, so I naturally understood what was happening. My brain worked lightning fast. Right now, I only had one thought: even if I had to choose Ezra Sterling’s dad, I absolutely could not choose Ezra Sterling! Of course, Ezra’s dad wasn’t in this room; the older generation was in the private room next door. Aside from Grandpa Sterling, everyone sitting here was an unmarried male of suitable age. Today’s banquet was essentially a giant matchmaking session prepared specifically for me. Therefore, I had plenty of men to choose from. With a quick flick of my wrist, I pointed directly at the man sitting next to Ezra: “…Asher.” Whatever, he’ll do. The rest of them I either didn’t know well or they just weren’t my type. The man had been playing on his phone. Hearing me call his name, his head snapped up. A flash of surprise crossed his peach-blossom eyes, but he quickly suppressed it. Maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me, but was there a hint of pleasant surprise in his gaze, too? He put his phone away, looked around the room, and then laughed: “Chloe, you must have misspoken. Ezra is sitting right next to me.” He nudged Ezra with his elbow, gesturing for him to stand up. The surprise and impatience in Ezra’s eyes vanished in a flash. He adjusted his collar, just about to stand up. I spoke clearly: “Sit down. Asher Sterling, I called your name.” Grandpa Sterling was also full of surprise. He looked at me kindly and said, “It’s alright, Chloe. Think it through carefully before you choose.” “That’s right, Chloe. After all, marriage is a major life event. We need to be a bit more prudent,” my dad chimed in. Before coming here, we had a family meeting to discuss who I should marry. Ezra Sterling was the top candidate. He was good-looking, and we had been classmates since we were kids. In all these years, I had never heard a single scandal about him. He seemed to keep his nose clean and stay out of trouble. He truly was a solid choice for a marriage of convenience. And during our discussion, the absolute worst choice was Asher Sterling, the number one playboy in the city. Just the title alone was enough to make anyone keep their distance. I shook my head and kept my eyes fixed on Asher: “No need. He’s the one.” 2 After dinner, everyone left with their own hidden agendas. Although Grandpa Sterling was very surprised by my choice, he still asked Asher to drive me home, suggesting we use the opportunity to cultivate some feelings. We sat in the same car, neither of us speaking. Technically, Asher was three years younger than me, and I had practically watched him grow up. But we hadn’t interacted much; we usually just exchanged polite greetings when we saw each other. Now, having suddenly gone from mere acquaintances to fiancés, let alone him, even I hadn’t fully adjusted to the shift. “Um, Chloe, I…” Before he could finish his sentence, the car door next to me was pulled open. Ezra Sterling sat down right beside me, frowning at Asher: “I have something to discuss with her. You and the driver step out.” They flanked me on the left and right, squishing me in the middle. I felt a surge of annoyance. When Ezra leaned closer, the strong scent of tobacco clinging to him suffocated my breathing space even more. I raised a hand, signaling Ezra to back off and maintain a safe social distance: “No need. Whatever you have to say, you can say it here.” Ezra’s brow furrowed tightly, clearly displeased, but he asked anyway: “Why did you choose him? There are plenty of people in the Sterling family you could have chosen. He’s not the only option.” I shimmied my butt to the other side, trying hard to put some distance between Ezra and me. Inevitably, I bumped into Asher. I looked Ezra straight in the eye and countered: “What about you? Why did you insist I choose you? There are plenty of unmarried men in the Sterling family. Why did it have to be you?” Ezra froze, seemingly not expecting me to ask that. Just as I was trying to think of an excuse to get him out of the car, he sneered: “You’d rather choose a playboy with a terrible reputation than choose me?” Earlier, I was still weighing my options, but now my resolve was ironclad. I wasn’t narcissistic enough to believe that Ezra loved me so much he couldn’t live without me. He must have some ulterior motive for insisting on marrying me. Thinking of this, I conveniently leaned back, resting against Asher. I smiled: “What’s wrong with a playboy? I happen to like them wild.” The car fell dead silent. The driver stared straight ahead, not even daring to breathe too loudly. I heard Asher’s heartbeat suddenly accelerate. Thump thump thump, thump thump thump. Even through his clothes, I could feel the heat radiating from his body. A faint, woody cologne drifted into my nose, cutting through the stale smell of smoke in the car. Ezra: “You! How could you be this kind of person?! Frivolous!” He glared at me resentfully, then slammed the car door and stormed off a moment later. Only me, Asher, and the driver were left in the car. The driver very tactfully raised the privacy partition. Now, it was time for Asher and me to have a private conversation. Asher’s voice drifted from the back of my neck: “Chloe, um, maybe you could sit up first?” His voice was as quiet as a mosquito, his gentle breath ghosting over my skin. The atmosphere was so ambiguous that my face flushed slightly. So he wouldn’t notice anything was off, I pulled out of his embrace and put some distance between us. Once I was settled, Asher finally spoke: “Do you want to reconsider the marriage alliance? You know my reputation is terrible. If you’re with me, your future…” “No need,” I shook my head. “Since I chose you, I’m not going to change my mind. But I need you to agree to three conditions.” He nodded almost instantly: “Okay. Tell me.” “I don’t care who you were tangled up with before, cut all ties within three days. I don’t want any negative press surrounding our marriage. “Get a full physical exam and a three-panel STD test. I need to know you’re healthy. Naturally, I’ll get tested too. “Third, we can divorce after we have a child. During the marriage, absolutely no cheating is allowed. The same goes for me.” After laying out my three conditions, I looked at Asher. For a notorious playboy, these three conditions were undeniably challenging. But it wasn’t like I had to marry him. If Asher couldn’t do it, there were other men in the Sterling family. But to my surprise, Asher nodded without hesitation: “There has never been anyone else. And I promise you, there will never be a third person between us.” With that, he lowered the partition and told the driver: “Turn around. Go to the nearest medical testing center.” 3 Money makes the world go round. Not long after our blood was drawn, the three-panel STD test results were in my hands. Asher stood before me, holding the report: “Here are my test results. Absolutely no issues. Is there anything else you want to check?” All indicators were normal; everything was negative. If I didn’t have much of an impression of him before, I was highly satisfied with Asher now. His facial features were softer than Ezra’s, and he spoke softly, but there was nothing soft about his physique. In the car earlier, I hadn’t just heard his racing heartbeat; I had felt the sudden, firm flex of his chest muscles. A man’s chest muscles are soft when they aren’t flexing them. What a scheming man. But I was an absolute sucker for this little trick. I nodded in satisfaction: “Excellent. Since that’s settled, when we get back, we’ll discuss the engagement date. Everything else is out of our hands.” Asher nodded eagerly, his tone eager: “It’s still early. Do you want to go grab a couple of drinks?” Since we were going to be partners in life from now on, I naturally didn’t refuse. But before we even walked out the hospital doors, a young woman walked past me. The moment she passed, the floating text appeared before my eyes again. [The female lead came to the hospital all alone to get her baby checked, while the male lead is still out drinking with that Vance woman. It’s so tragic!] [Thank goodness the miracle baby is well-behaved and doesn’t cause the female lead any trouble, otherwise our hearts would literally break for her.] [When is the female supporting character going to die off? I can’t stand reading about her for another chapter. I wish I could reach through the screen and slap her. Isn’t she pathetic?!] So the girl who just walked past was Ezra’s girlfriend? I glanced at her retreating back. Remembering that my marriage partner had been swapped to Asher, I immediately looked away. Mind my own business. But the second I turned my head, I saw text popping up around Asher, too. [Oh no, our Mia was spotted by the villain! The villain is going to use this to blackmail the male lead, and the male lead is going to have to give up so many shares to the villain to keep it quiet!] [Our Ezra and Mia are so tragic. They clearly love each other so much, why did the author have to write in a misunderstanding between them?!] [Can the villain just die together with the female supporting character? Those two pieces of trash should just be packaged up and sent to hell together!] So Asher, the guy I casually pointed at, was the villain of this book? Looking at his harmless, innocent face, I really couldn’t tell he was capable of blackmail. Asher: “Did you know that girl who just walked by?” I shook my head: “No. She looked heavily pregnant and was here at the hospital all alone. Just seemed a bit pitiful.” Asher: “I saw that girl a few months ago. I think she’s a new intern at one of Ezra’s branch companies.” I took one last look at the girl’s retreating back: “Let’s go.” 4 Returning home, I faced my parents, who had been waiting for me. Before they could even speak, I slapped Asher’s medical report on the table: “Mom, Dad, there’s a reason for this, and I couldn’t say it at the dinner table. But as of right now, Asher is a much better fit than Ezra.” After looking over the report, my mom finally asked: “And your reason for not choosing Ezra? We’ve practically watched Ezra grow up. We know his character.” It seemed my parents didn’t know about Ezra and the intern either. “Ezra has a girlfriend, and she’s already pregnant with his child.” My simple explanation left my parents stunned. Ezra’s usual reputation was so spotless that my parents even felt suspicious: “Did Asher tell you this?” I shook my head: “I looked into it myself.” To remember a lowly intern for months, and to specifically choose the hospital where the female lead was getting her prenatal checkups to do his medical exam—clearly, Asher wasn’t entirely innocent either. But compared to Ezra, who hid his romantic history to go on a blind date with me, Asher’s little schemes could only be seen as him aggressively courting me. My dad frowned, just about to say something, when the butler walked in: “Sir, there is a Ms. Mia outside requesting to see Miss Chloe.” Ms. Mia? I was confused: “Which Ms. Mia? Let her in first.” When she arrived, I understood. It was Ezra’s girlfriend. And the moment she walked through the door, she dropped to her knees right on the floor: “Ms. Vance, I’m begging you! Please marry my boss!” 5 Good thing I dodged quickly, otherwise her kneeling to me would have definitely cursed my lifespan. I shook my head: “Ms. Mia, I don’t quite understand what you mean. Who is your boss?” Even though I knew her relationship with Ezra, I couldn’t just come out and say it. Play dumb and make her say it herself. Mia choked back a sob for a moment, then said: “My boss is Ezra Sterling. His company recently ran into a bit of a crisis and needs a massive injection of funds to bridge the gap. If he doesn’t get this money, everything he’s worked for will be bought out…” Oh? Speaking of buyouts, my eyes lit up. The children of the Sterling family received a startup fund when they came of age, free to use for their own entrepreneurial ventures. Ezra had founded a large AI research company. The project launched last year and saw a brief period of massive popularity online. But the market was saturated with competing products, and now the company was languishing in mediocrity. If there was a buyout happening, I definitely wanted a piece of the action. But right now, I needed to deal with the woman in front of me first. I sighed: “Sister, does your boss know you’re here begging me?” Mia fell silent. I said: “Butler, please escort Ms. Mia out. Having a pregnant woman kneeling in our house… if something happens to her, we won’t be able to explain ourselves.” But no matter what I said, she remained stubbornly on her knees, refusing to get up. Anyone watching would think her knees had taken root and sprouted in my living room. “Ms. Vance, if you don’t agree, I will kneel here until I die! I won’t get up!” She spoke stubbornly, straightening her back, looking like she was defying the unfairness of fate. And I was that unfair fate. Looking at this pregnant woman, my mouth twitched. I turned around and called Asher. “Why are you calling me now?” Asher’s voice on the other end was soft and gentle. I asked directly: “Do you know where Ezra is?” He paused for a second. His tone wasn’t quite as gentle as before, carrying a hint of resentment: “How should I know? After we got back tonight, Grandpa called him away again. Why are you looking for him?” Looking at the woman kneeling on the floor, I sneered: “His girlfriend is currently kneeling in front of me, demanding that I marry him.” Asher let out a sharp “Ah”: “Who?! Wait for me at your house, I’ll be right there.” “Make sure you bring Grandpa Sterling with you.” Family matters are best resolved by the family themselves. After hanging up, I looked at the woman staring at me with hopeful eyes: “The Sterling family will be here shortly. I think rather than having me marry Ezra, it’s better to let the Sterling family decide the fate of this marriage.” Mia visibly panicked: “This is my own private matter! It has absolutely nothing to do with my boss! My actions have nothing to do with him! Ms. Vance, please don’t drag him into this, and please don’t take your anger out on him because of what I’ve done.” “Too late,” I said flatly. “A pregnant woman running into my house late at night and kneeling in my living room… If word of this gets out, people who don’t know any better will think I, Chloe Vance, committed some heinous crime. “Who do you think you are, that you can dictate my marriage?” After saying that, I looked at my parents: “Mom, Dad, do you understand now why I chose Asher instead of Ezra?” My mom was basically a princess herself. She had been protected her entire life, and after marrying my dad, he treated her like royalty. She had never been dragged into wealthy family drama. To see a heavily pregnant woman show up at our door before I was even married left her completely dumbfounded. My mom sighed: “You can marry whoever you want. Your dad and I will always stand by your side.” Hearing my mom say that, tears silently welled up in my heart. Even though I didn’t know exactly what kind of book my world was set in, I could tell from the massive amount of floating text that I was the vicious female supporting character in a novel. I died a mysterious, miserable death, and my parents probably didn’t fare much better. By not marrying Ezra, I could probably live a few years longer. 6 Mia remained kneeling in my house until Grandpa Sterling arrived with Ezra and Asher. The moment he saw Mia, Grandpa Sterling started coughing violently. I thoughtfully called the butler over and asked him to pour the old man a glass of water. Grandpa Sterling sighed: “Young lady, whose child are you carrying?” Even now, Ezra’s lips remained pressed into a tight, straight line. Naturally, Mia refused to admit the truth: “Grandpa, this has absolutely nothing to do with anyone else. This was entirely my own reckless decision, my own idea. I didn’t tell anyone. Please, please don’t be angry over this.” The old man scoffed coldly: “You are an employee at Ezra’s company, and you’re claiming your actions have nothing to do with him? Fine. Ezra, contact HR immediately and have her fired.” Ezra, who hadn’t said a word until now, finally spoke up: “No! Grandpa, I followed your orders and went on the blind dates. I’ll do whatever you ask, but I cannot let her leave me.” I wore a sarcastic expression: “Are you implying that you forced yourself to go on a blind date with me, suffering an immense grievance, just to protect your true love?” I glanced at the woman kneeling on the floor and shook my head: “I really should be celebrating the fact that I chose Asher instead of you.” Ezra shot me an icy glare, but quickly masked it, replacing it with a look of tragic sorrow directed at the woman in front of him. He immediately dropped to his knees, facing Grandpa Sterling: “Grandpa, I have already gone on the blind dates you arranged. I hope you can accept Mia. I will do whatever you command!” Grandpa Sterling let out a long, heavy exhale. He was clearly furious with Ezra. “Since you already have a child on the way, you shouldn’t have lied to us and said you didn’t have someone you loved. We aren’t living in the feudal era anymore. If you want to choose who you love, us elders wouldn’t have objected! “Now that things have reached this point, pick a good day and marry this Ms. Mia.” Hearing Grandpa Sterling’s words, I nodded in agreement from the sidelines. The baby is almost due, if you don’t get married now, what are you waiting for? None of the people in my social circle ever had the habit of keeping mistresses on the side. We didn’t tolerate that kind of dirt in our eyes. Ezra blurted out almost instantly: “But if I marry Mia, what will happen to my company?” At this moment, Mia, still kneeling on the floor, burst into hysterical tears upon hearing Ezra’s words. She crawled forward on her knees and hugged Grandpa Sterling’s leg: “Grandpa, I don’t want money, and I don’t want a title! I don’t want anything! I watched him build his company from nothing with my own two eyes. I don’t want his life’s work to be destroyed! I’m begging you, please help him! “I will have the baby, and I will find a quiet corner where no one knows me. I’ll hide away and never appear in front of you for the rest of my life. “Ms. Vance, say something! I know you are a gentle, kind woman. Ezra told me that a woman like you would never make things difficult for me.” My parents and I were absolutely stunned. We exchanged bewildered glances. What kind of melodramatic soap opera were we watching? Asher coughed: “That’s where you’re wrong, Ms. Mia. Ms. Chloe is my girlfriend, and my fiancée. She has absolutely nothing to do with your boss. I suggest you think carefully before you speak.” Although he was smiling, his eyes were full of mockery. Ezra’s jaw tightened, but he couldn’t utter a single word. In comparison, Asher had just scored another point. Mia shot Asher a vicious, venomous glare: “No! I know about you! You’ve always been fighting Ezra for everything! Whenever there’s something he wants, you try to steal it! Ms. Vance, he doesn’t truly love you!” “Enough!” Hearing this, I had absolutely reached the limit of my patience and immediately ordered them out. “Mr. Sterling, this is Ezra’s family drama. Having this argument in my house is highly inappropriate, isn’t it?” Grandpa Sterling coughed a few times. His eyes were currently filled with profound disappointment: “I’ve let you youngsters see a shameful spectacle. The Sterling family will handle this internally. You focus on preparing for your wedding with Asher.” In the end, a reluctant Mia was led away by Ezra.

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I transmigrated as the beautiful ex-wife of an autistic male lead. Even though I talked to him eight hundred times a day, he still refused to spare me a single glance. So, I gave up and decided to just chill. The system told me to curry favor with the male lead. I kicked his shoulder and told him to go make me a three-course meal with soup. While he was sweating over the stove, furiously wielding a spatula, I chewed on my boba pearls and directed him: “Next time you order me boba, make sure it’s 30% sugar, no ice, and add a cheese foam on top.” Later, when this almighty, powerful billionaire was attending a top-tier executive meeting, a phone alarm suddenly went off. Everyone in the room held their breath. The notoriously unsmiling man faintly curled his lips: “It’s time. I have to order her boba first.” 1 Transmigrating as the beautiful ex-wife of an autistic male lead. At first, I refused. You have to understand, I’ve loved talking since I was a kid. When I go back to my hometown for the holidays, my mouth alone can leave a dozen gossiping old ladies speechless. I post on Facebook more than ten times a day. My voice memos are always a full 60 seconds. Staring at the tightly locked bedroom door, I banged on it while wailing: “System, look at this! Is this reasonable?!” I had been married to Arthur Sterling for two years. He spent most of his time locked in his room, not speaking, just tinkering with his woodwork. Every day, I stood outside his door, chanting like a monk about everything that happened over the past few days. For example, today the boba shop skimped on the pearls, 50% sugar was way too sweet, the neighbor Mrs. Smith’s son’s cat just had three kittens, and so on. But I never heard a single word in response. I was stuck talking to the air and the potted plants every day. If this kept up, I was going to become autistic myself! The system came up with a terrible idea: use my beauty. Wearing something incredibly revealing, I stood outside his door and cooed, “Arthur~” Well, I don’t know if the guy inside got hot, but I definitely started burning up. I ran a fever for two whole nights. I almost thought I was going to die. Arthur suddenly noticed the silence. Realizing something was wrong, he came out of his room, found my brain practically frying from the fever, and hurriedly called 911 to get me to the hospital. But even then, he still refused to speak to me. I knew he could speak. I knew he could hear me. In a fit of anger, I gave up. Whoever wants to woo him can do it themselves. 2 2:00 PM the next day. I woke up starving. As soon as I opened my eyes, I saw an incredibly handsome face and a pair of deep, dark eyes. It was Arthur. I have to admit, as the male lead, Arthur was objectively gorgeous. His features were sharp and chiseled. He was 6’2″, with a broad frame and a narrow waist—an extreme physical contrast to me. No wonder, even though he was autistic and currently just a despised illegitimate son, there were still countless women in our social circle waiting to push me out and become the new Mrs. Sterling. I could appreciate the view, but I couldn’t eat it. So frustrating! Annoyed, I rolled over. Only then did it slowly dawn on me that I was sleeping naked! I instantly dove under the covers. I roared, “Arthur Sterling! Why are you in my room?!” Of course, Arthur didn’t answer. Blushing furiously, I grabbed my pajamas from under the covers and hastily pulled them on. I peeked out from a tiny crack in the blanket. There was hot water and cold medicine on the nightstand. He was actually pretty nice. Even though our marriage was arranged by his late mother and we had no romantic feelings for each other… Once the female lead appeared, our flimsy, better-than-nothing three-year marriage would come to an end. No fighting, no drama, just an amicable divorce. But for these three years, Arthur and I had treated each other with polite respect. Arthur’s ears were bright red. He coughed lightly, looked away, and with a slightly inexperienced touch, felt my forehead. Then he let out a low sigh of relief. The fever had broken. I clutched my stomach, looking at him with puppy-dog eyes. “Arthur, I’m hungry.” Hearing this, he froze, looking at me in disbelief. I held out both my hands, looking incredibly innocent: “Look at what the grease and smoke in the kitchen have done to my hands! A few more trips to the kitchen and I’ll turn into a haggard old woman! I’m not going, I’m not going.” His frown deepened, his eyes filled with even more confusion. I felt a little guilty. “Fine, I admit I usually just order takeout, I don’t cook.” Arthur opened a food delivery app on his phone and handed it to me. I pushed it away: “Takeout is bad for you! Especially for someone recovering from an illness! It’s all processed meat. It’s better not to eat at all!” Finally, he opened an electronic recipe book. It featured basic dishes like tomato and egg stir-fry, pepper steak, steamed pork ribs, etc. My eyes lit up, and I quickly pointed to a few: “This one, this one, and this one. I want them all.” The system sighed helplessly: [You are the weakest host I’ve ever had. How did you catch a cold from that?!] [Also, you’re really just letting him in the kitchen? Aren’t you afraid he’ll poison you or blow the place up? The male lead has autism right now, can you show a little more patience?!] “I’m a patient too! Besides, what does autism have to do with cooking?!” [You’re just making excuses!] “I’m speaking the truth!” “System, didn’t you say the male lead is a genius and can learn anything? Is a little bit of cooking really going to stump him?” The system grew frantic: [Is the male lead’s high IQ supposed to be used for THIS?!] Why not? Life is just three meals a day. Who says dealing with groceries and cooking doesn’t require intelligence? 3 Not long after, Arthur knocked on my door. As soon as I opened it, the smell of home-cooked food wafted in. I hadn’t smelled something so comforting in a long time. When I was little, my parents were always busy. No one ever cooked for me; all three meals were just takeout, takeout, takeout. On my eighteenth birthday, we finally sat down together. They asked me what I wanted for a present. I said I wanted to eat a home-cooked meal one day. They looked at each other and awkwardly agreed. But the day after I turned eighteen, they got divorced. They had their own futures and careers to run to, and I was just proof of a past they were ashamed of. Neither of them wanted to take me. I never got to eat that meal. Arthur really was gifted. The food was incredible. I angrily devoured three huge bowls of rice. Crying while I ate. Arthur just stared at me, completely dumbfounded. He reached out and wiped a grain of rice from the corner of my mouth. “Arthur, you’re amazing.” Hearing this, Arthur looked up at me, thinking he had misheard. Seeing me staring at him unblinking, he abruptly lowered his head, pretending to be very busy with his bowl and chopsticks, but his ears were burning red. Of course, I, focused entirely on eating, didn’t notice any of these details. I reached out and grabbed the last piece of braised pork belly from the plate. Just as I was about to put it in my bowl and eat it with my rice, I suddenly realized something… Arthur hadn’t eaten a single piece. There weren’t many pieces to begin with—only six in total. I had just eaten five, and this was the last one. After thinking for a second, I gently pulled his chopsticks from his hand and placed the last piece of meat into his bowl. “You eat it. I’ve had enough.” Arthur didn’t touch the meat for a long time. I frowned. “Are you not eating it because you think it’s gross that it was almost in my bowl?” Arthur lowered his eyes and took a bite of the pork belly. The system’s roar echoed in my head: [Host! What are you doing?! Didn’t I tell you the male lead NEVER eats braised pork belly?!] [When he was a kid, a puppy he raised was slaughtered by the Sterling family and made into braised pork belly! He hasn’t eaten it since!] [Host, I’m seriously done with you! How can a person mess up this badly?!] I grabbed my hair in frustration. The system had told me Arthur didn’t eat braised pork belly, but I just thought he was a picky eater! Who knew it was because of something like that?! No wonder he looked a bit strange when I told him to make it earlier. “Stop eating it.” I took the piece of pork belly out of his bowl. “Arthur, I forgot. We’ll never eat braised pork belly again.” Arthur might look cold on the outside, but underneath, he was just a normal guy who grew up sensitive and insecure. He didn’t say a word. The atmosphere grew tense again. I grabbed a piece of steamed rib. “Arthur, from now on, you’re in charge of all three meals a day, okay?” I had never been married before transmigrating, so I didn’t know how a married couple was supposed to act. Even though our three-year marriage only had one year left, we saw each other every single day; we should at least try to live comfortably. “No matter what, we’re married right now, so we need to divide the household chores. You’ll be in charge of washing vegetables, cooking, doing the dishes, doing laundry, mopping the floors… I’ll let you know the rest when I think of it.” He put down his chopsticks and looked at me, bewildered. His expression clearly said, “Are you serious?” I have very thick skin. “Why are you looking at me like that? I have my own chores too! I’m responsible for making this house lively! Do you know how exhausting it is for me to say eight hundred sentences a day by myself?! You don’t even appreciate my hard work!” Arthur suddenly reached out his hand. I instinctively shielded my bowl: “What are you doing? Trying to steal my food?!” He slowly spat out two words: “Doing dishes.” I froze. This was the first time I had ever heard him speak. His voice was so nice. I instantly got excited. “Did you just speak?! Can you say a little more? Your voice is so nice! This is great! If you talk more, I won’t have to put on a one-woman show anymore! It’s so boring being the only one talking in this house. Just say a few more words! Do you want me to go find you a microphone?!” I babbled on and on. And was rewarded with exactly one word. “No.” Okay, fine. At least he’s willing to open his mouth. Even if it’s just one or two words at a time. But no matter what, saying two words is better than saying nothing. Otherwise, this house would be way too quiet. “I’m done eating. Thanks for doing the dishes, Hubby~” This was the first time Arthur had heard that title. As he took my bowl, his movements were a bit stiff. He pressed his lips together, clearly not understanding, but he still did as I asked. I nodded in deep satisfaction. Arthur definitely had the potential to be the perfect, dutiful husband. I crossed my legs and casually gave his waist a light kick: “If you don’t respond, it makes me look really awkward.” His whole body stiffened, and he forced out a single word as if it pained him: “Mhm.” I smiled brightly: “Hubby is the best!” Arthur’s face flushed red, and he practically sprinted to the kitchen with the bowls. 4 While Arthur was in the kitchen doing dishes. I lay on the sofa trying to pick a boba tea, torn between two different shops, when the doorbell suddenly rang. I got up, walked to the door, and asked, “Who is it?” I leaned against the door to listen, but the keypad lock was suddenly thrown open. Before me stood an older man’s face and the manicured face of a middle-aged woman. “Young Master Sterling, Mrs. Sterling is here to see you.” The so-called “Mrs. Sterling” was Eleanor. She didn’t have a son; she only gave birth to a daughter for Mr. Sterling, named Mia. After having Mia, her health was poor. Despite years of treatments, she couldn’t conceive a son. So, she shifted her attention to Arthur. After Arthur’s biological mother left, Eleanor constantly tried to insert herself into Arthur’s life. Arthur’s birth mother loved Mr. Sterling until the day she died, but Arthur always hated his father. He refused to return to the Sterling family or accept a single cent of his father’s money. Mr. Sterling felt guilty toward Arthur’s mother. And Arthur was his only son. Therefore, everyone knew that if Arthur returned home, he would undoubtedly inherit the Sterling empire. Publicly, Eleanor and Mia showered the so-called “illegitimate son” with care and concern. But in reality, if it weren’t for the endless humiliation and abuse they inflicted on him in the past, Arthur would never have developed autism. Just then, a loud crash came from the kitchen. I hurried over and saw a bowl shattered on the floor by Arthur’s feet. He was trembling all over, his voice sharp: “Get out!” 5 Of course, Eleanor wouldn’t give up that easily. She stepped forward, trying to placate him: “Arthur, it’s okay if you don’t want to call me Mom. I’m here to invite you to your sister’s eighteenth birthday party next week. Your father misses you very much and hopes you can come.” Arthur pressed his lips together, his entire body shaking as he fought to control himself. It took so much effort to get him to talk to me these past few days. If Eleanor triggered him now, would I have to go back to my one-woman show?! I whooshed right in front of Arthur, using my small frame to form a human shield. “Get out.” I repeated Arthur’s words. Eleanor finally looked at me slowly. She looked me up and down, her expression filled with disdain: “You’re Arthur’s wife? I heard you’re an orphan with no parents. Aren’t you just with him for the Sterling blood in his veins? If that’s the case, you should be persuading him, not adding fuel to the fire.” I was furious. Having held it in for so long, I finally exploded: “If you don’t know how to speak properly, you can keep your mouth shut. There’s no need to spew garbage! Who do you think you’re morally kidnapping here? He shouldn’t be calling you Mom in the first place—what kind of mom are you anyway? And what sister? Just because you share the same blood makes you family?! Well, we’re all descendants of the first humans, why don’t you call me Grandpa then?! But even if you acknowledged me, I wouldn’t accept a grandchild like you! Why didn’t you say all this when Mr. Sterling was here? Why only say it in front of Arthur? What, trying to act like a manipulative little ‘green tea bitch’ like the kids do? Take a look at your age first!” I took a deep breath, grabbed Arthur’s hand, and continued glaring at Eleanor: “Also, I don’t know where you got the key to our house, but right now, I need you to get out. “Otherwise, don’t blame me if I spray spit all over your face! Though honestly, you should thank me for washing your face so you can take a good look at yourself.” Eleanor’s face cycled through shades of green and purple. She choked for a long time but couldn’t squeeze out a single word. “Fine! You certainly found a wife with a sharp tongue!” I waved my hand to shoo Eleanor and her driver away. But Arthur stood frozen in the entryway, not moving for a long time. I confidently flipped my hair: “That was the most satisfying rant I’ve ever had! By the way, are the dishes done? Also, which boba place do you think is better?” Arthur looked up at me, an indescribable emotion in his eyes. A moment later, he returned to normal: “Not yet. The second one.” “Oh, then I’ll get the first one.” I went back to curl up on the sofa. [Host, what are you taking matters into your own hands for?! That banquet is the first time the male and female leads meet! It’s the first crucial plot point that establishes their emotional foundation! How can you just say you’re not going?!] I thought it was very simple. “But Arthur doesn’t want to go! Besides, shouldn’t I be asking you guys? To create a ‘tragic but beautiful’ male lead for a female-oriented romance novel, you’re making him live this miserably before his character growth?!” The system went silent again. I couldn’t be bothered with it. It’s just a plot point, right? I refuse to believe he won’t meet the female lead just because he skips one banquet. Not long after, Arthur finished washing the dishes. Not only did he clean up the shattered ceramic on the floor, but he also wiped down the stove, the kitchen tiles, and the counters. He even tied up the kitchen trash bag and set it by the door. I finally finished ordering my boba and was scrolling on my phone on the sofa. It wasn’t until a tall silhouette blocked my light that I slowly looked up. Arthur’s eyes were red. Even his lips were trembling. He looked very kissable. Wait, what am I thinking?! Arthur took a few steps forward, exuding an indescribable stubbornness and defiance: “Why… speak up… for me?” “Because you don’t like her, so I don’t like her either.” Arthur frowned. In his understanding of the world, the simplest reasons were often the most impossible ones. “We’re married! Isn’t this how a married couple is supposed to be? Sharing joy and anger, sharing the consequences.” Hearing the word “married,” Arthur froze. Over the past few days, he had heard this word from my mouth more than once. The concept was slowly starting to take shape in his mind. He pressed his lips together. He seemed very anxious, yet struggled to form a complete sentence: “Then why… agree… to be… married to me?” I stared at his face. Arthur’s looks leaned toward the cold and aloof side. When he wasn’t speaking, he looked exactly like an untouchable “flower on a high peak,” giving people the urge and desire to pull him down from his pedestal. But when he was anxious to speak, his usually expressionless face gained a hint of color, the corners of his eyes drooping slightly, evoking a protective instinct. In short, no matter the situation, he was so good-looking you couldn’t tear your eyes away. “It’s simple. Because you’re good-looking.” As soon as the words fell, the tips of Arthur’s ears burned red. It took him forever to squeeze out one word: “Oh.” I laughed out loud. “What does ‘oh’ mean?” He replied with utmost seriousness, word by word: “I… don’t know how to respond. But… you said… I have to respond.” I nodded and smiled at him: “You learn fast!” He clearly hadn’t gotten used to my compliments yet. Hearing this, he turned around incredibly fast. And after dropping a quick, “You… look good too,” he bolted. 6 These past few days, Arthur had been talking more and more. This made me very happy. At least I wasn’t talking to the air anymore. However. Lately, he was always on the phone with strangers. I was a bit scared, worried he was getting scammed. Even though he and I only had enough savings to barely fill the gap in a rich person’s teeth, that didn’t mean someone wasn’t coveting our good credit scores. After thinking about it for a long time, I finally brought up this serious issue: “Could you give me your phone for a second? I want to download an—” Before I could finish, the phone was already in my palm. “—Anti-fraud app.” After handing me the phone, Arthur went into the kitchen to cook. When I used to order takeout, I never realized how much time making three meals a day actually took. Arthur spent most of his time in the kitchen, and the rest of the time in his study on the phone. Even though Arthur was the male lead, the possibility of him getting scammed couldn’t be ruled out! After downloading the anti-fraud app, I still felt a bit uneasy and asked delicately: “Can I use your browser and look at your contacts?” Arthur appeared in front of me instantly. “Contacts, yes. Browser… can you not look at that for now?” I realized what he meant a second later. Blushing, I whispered, “Sorry.” A faint smell of burning drifted from the kitchen. Arthur sprinted back immediately. Right then, the doorbell rang. A voice called out from outside: “Delivery!” I was confused. I didn’t think I ordered takeout today. I opened the door to find a cup from my favorite boba shop. Ordered by Arthur. Crème brûlée milk tea, 30% sugar, no ice—my exact order. The sound of the range hood in the kitchen stopped. Arthur took off his apron and walked out holding a plate of pepper steak. I shook the boba I had already opened: “You ordered this?” Arthur set the food on the table and glanced at me: “Mhm.” His tone was completely natural: “You always order a cup to drink in the afternoon after lunch, so I bought it early. Drink it early, otherwise you won’t be able to sleep tonight.” I was a bit confused: “Can’t sleep? How did you know I couldn’t sle—” “You didn’t sleep either?” “Mhm.” “You weren’t intentionally listening at my door, were you?!” “This room… doesn’t have good soundproofing.” My defenses crumbled. Totally shattered! So not only could Arthur hear my silvery laughter every night, but he also knew exactly what kind of “Not Safe For Work” videos I was watching to help me fall asleep! No. Fine, he knew. But why did he have to SAY it?! Ahhhhhhh! 7 A few mornings later, while Arthur was preparing breakfast for me, the Sterling family had a set of men’s formal wear and a women’s evening gown delivered. It was for Mia’s eighteenth birthday party tonight. A few nights ago, I heard Mr. Sterling call Arthur, using his late mother’s belongings to threaten him into attending this banquet. Whenever Arthur faced me these past few days, he always looked a bit unnatural, probably trying to figure out how to tell me. I said softly: “This gown is actually really pretty. I’ve never worn such an expensive dress.” A flash of light crossed Arthur’s eyes: “You’re willing to go?” “Yeah, I’ll go with you.” It seems the plot is still correcting itself. Arthur would meet the female lead, Serena, who would stand up for him here. They would fall in love, understand each other, and overcome all obstacles together. I should be happy that my mission was nearing its end. But my heart actually felt a little uncomfortable.

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During a meeting, my son’s smartwatch alerted me his temperature was high. I rushed to school to take him to the doctor, but his teacher, Ms. Clarke, eyed me warily. “Who are you to Ethan Holloway?” she asked. “I messaged his mother this morning—she’s already taken him to the hospital.” I showed her my blank message screen. “Did you text the wrong person?” She pushed her phone toward me. “The records are right here. Don’t try to impersonate a parent.” As security escorted me out, I overheard teachers whispering: “She’s delusional, trying to marry into money. Mrs. Holloway warned us about people like her.” “Mr. and Mrs. Holloway are so devoted—he held her hand all through orientation.” But on orientation day, I’d been at the hospital with my mother-in-law. Lance had taken our son himself. So who was this “Mrs. Holloway”? Following the watch’s GPS, I reached the hospital and saw my best friend Vanessa carrying Ethan out of the clinic. Lance walked over with payment slips, gently pinching our son’s nose. “Get down from Mommy’s arms—you’re in elementary school now.” Vanessa… was his mother? Then what was I—after ten months of pregnancy and nearly dying in childbirth—just a joke? … The sounds of the crowded hospital faded into a blur. I was barely aware of my surroundings. The three figures before me, so intimately entwined, looked like a true family. Someone bumped into me, jolting me back to reality. I saw them walking towards my direction. Without thinking, I spun around and ducked into a corner. Ethan’s childish voice drifted to me. “Oh, if only Aunt Nessa were my real mommy.” “Just thinking about facing Mommy’s poker face when I get home gives me a headache.” His precocious tone made the two adults beside him laugh. But my heart, standing in the shadows, plunged straight into an icy abyss. Vanessa gently patted his back. “Don’t say that, sweetie. Mommy is busy with work and works very hard.” Lance’s tone was harsh, filled with disgust. “You’re too soft-hearted, still defending her. The child is sick, and she doesn’t even care. Is she the only one who’s busy? Is she the only one with a job?” Vanessa lightly hooked her finger through his. “Lance, don’t say such things in front of the child.” “Ethan, be good. Aunt Nessa always thinks of you as her own son.” Lance, moved, pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Vanessa, I’ve put you through so much. I’m lucky you’ve been with us all this time.” Vanessa’s eyes reddened, but she bravely shook her head. “I don’t feel wronged being by your side. It’s just…” She blinked, and a tear slid down at just the right moment. “If only time could go back to last week. That week was the happiest of my life.” Lance pulled her into his arms. “Don’t say that!” Ethan also reached out his small hand, clumsily wiping her tears. “Daddy, can you send Mommy on another business trip today, the farther the better? I’m sick, and I want Aunt Nessa to stay with me.” Last week? Lance had sent me to Arlington to deal with an extremely difficult client. He had held me from behind, exhausted, his chin resting on my shoulder. “Honey, help me. Those old geezers are all waiting to laugh at me. You’re the only one I can trust.” My heart ached for him. Despite a relapse of my stomach condition, I forced myself to go to Arlington. As I left, Vanessa had comforted me. “Chloe, you go focus on your work. I’ll help you take good care of Ethan.” At the time, my heart was filled with gratitude, feeling lucky to have such a thoughtful best friend. But it turned out that from beginning to end, this was all a carefully orchestrated lie, designed to get rid of me! My husband of ten years, my son for whom I endured ten months of pregnancy, my confidante. They had long formed a new “family” behind my back! I returned home, physically and emotionally drained, to find my mother-in-law sitting in the living room. Years ago, after my parents died, it was my mother-in-law’s financial support that allowed me to complete college. When my relationship with Lance was exposed, his entire family opposed it. She was the first to give in, agreeing to my marriage into the Holloway family. To me, she was more than just my mother-in-law; she was also my benefactor. So, no matter how bad my mood, I respectfully greeted her. “Mom, you’re here.” My mother-in-law glanced behind me, then smiled. “Yes, I came to see you all.” Our housekeeper, Mrs. Miller, peeked out from the kitchen. “Madam, should I soak the dried yams you brought, or boil them directly?” My mother-in-law hurried over. At that moment, her phone screen lit up, and I clearly saw a notification: “Temperature too high, precious might be unwell.” My eyes widened. I suddenly remembered the smartwatch was a gift from my mother-in-law to our son. Of course, she had also linked the app. So, she came today because she knew Ethan had a fever? But from the moment I entered, she hadn’t mentioned it once, nor did she show any surprise at seeing me come home alone. My hands and feet turned cold as I walked to the kitchen doorway. Sure enough, I heard my mother-in-law’s hushed voice. “The yams need to be cut into small pieces, and go easy on the sugar. The child has a fever; he needs something bland.” Mrs. Miller chuckled softly. “Oh, I know. Ms. Evans just called specifically to say we should make fewer sweets these two days.” My mother-in-law was silent for a moment, then sighed. “Vanessa… she knows how to handle things.” So, it wasn’t just my mother-in-law; even the housekeeper knew about Lance and Vanessa’s affair. Was I the only one kept in the dark all along? I went upstairs, made a phone call, and then, finding a flimsy excuse, prepared to leave. The front door suddenly opened, and Lance returned, carrying Ethan. He saw me and froze for a moment, then uncomfortably said, “Ethan has a fever. I just took him to the hospital.” Seeing Ethan clinging weakly to his shoulder, a pang of heartache went through me. He was only 7 years old, my flesh and blood, a part of me! To protect him during my pregnancy, I had spent a month on bed rest. Later, when he was born, my mother-in-law insisted on a natural birth, and I was in agony for two days and two nights. Finally, the doctor issued an ultimatum before my mother-in-law reluctantly agreed to switch from natural to C-section. Exhausted, I held my tiny baby, tears streaming down my face. “Baby, you’re amazing. We made it through together, you and I.” “From now on, the three of us will always be together.” Thinking of this, my heart softened. I raised my hand. “Ethan, come here, Mommy will hold you.” But Ethan opened his eyes, saw me, and burst into tears. “I don’t want you! I want Aunt Nessa!” “I hate you! Go away! I want Aunt Nessa to be my mommy!” My hand froze in mid-air. Vanessa flung open the door, reaching out to take Ethan into her arms, gently cooing, “Be good, sweetie. Aunt Nessa is here. Don’t cry!” My voice trembled. “Vanessa, give me back my son!” Vanessa held Ethan, avoiding my outstretched hand. “Chloe, don’t be angry. Ethan is still little. He was playing too wildly outside yesterday and ate ice cream. He’s afraid you’ll scold him.” She lightly tapped Ethan’s nose. “Tell Mommy you’re sorry and that you won’t do it again.” Ethan buried his face in her arms. Under her gentle gaze, he reluctantly mumbled, “I’m sorry.” Then he clung to her, whining, “Aunt Nessa, I just want you to stay with me, please!” I was about to speak, but Lance impatiently pushed me. “What’s the fuss? Let Vanessa take the child to his room first.” My mother-in-law, emerging from the kitchen, witnessed the scene and shot Lance a glare. “Why are you so harsh? Chloe has been busy at the office all day; she’s tired enough.” Then she took Ethan from Vanessa. “Vanessa, Ethan isn’t feeling well today. Why don’t you go home for now, so you don’t catch anything?” “It’s already dark outside; let Lance drive you back.” My mother-in-law’s words seemed to be defending me, but in reality, she was covering for Lance. I gave a bitter laugh, looking seriously at my son and asking, “Do you really not want me, and want Vanessa to be your mom?” Ethan hesitated, looking at Vanessa. Vanessa smiled and leaned closer, intimately hooking her arm through mine and swaying it. “Chloe, why are you being so serious with a child? We’re best friends; if I have children someday, won’t they be like your own?” I pulled her hand away, then looked up at Lance. “Do you think so too? Do you want Vanessa to be the woman of this house?” Vanessa, seeing me ignore her, forced a strained laugh. “No way, you’re not jealous of me, are you? Chloe, we’ve been friends for over ten years. I saw you were busy, and I came out of the goodness of my heart to help you take care of the house, and you…” Lance finally spoke, his voice filled with accusation. “Chloe, why are you getting angry at Vanessa? Why don’t you reflect on why our son isn’t close to you?” “Vanessa, just an ‘aunt,’ can make time to be with the child, but you? What have you cared about all day besides work?” “Our son had a fever today; where were you, his mother?” I waited for him to finish, then calmly said, “I went to the school today.” “The teacher told me the child had already been picked up by his mother.” “The contact person in her phone, the profile picture and name were mine, but it wasn’t my number.” “Lance, at the orientation, who did you actually put down as our son’s contact person?” One sentence changed everyone’s expression. Vanessa’s face froze. She tried to explain, her voice dry. “Chloe, it’s not what you think. We’re best friends; trust me…” Only Ethan didn’t understand what was happening. Seeing the tears welling up in Vanessa’s eyes, he angrily yelled at me, “Don’t bully Aunt Nessa! I just hate you. You don’t let me do anything, you’re always forcing me to do homework. Daddy said you only care about work and don’t love me at all.” “Go on your business trip already! I want Aunt Nessa to stay with me!” I deliberately ignored the dull ache in my chest. I quietly looked at Ethan. His small face was flushed from the fever, and his little chest heaved violently. “Next week is your eighth birthday. Your birthday present is hidden in the cabinet in your room.” That was the treasure hunt game he loved playing with me when he was little. “You’re allergic to lamb and tomatoes; don’t eat them anymore.” His allergies had been managed much better in the past two years, but those two things were still off-limits. I paused, suppressing the bitterness. “There’s one last gift.” “I promise you, I’ll leave, and let Vanessa be your mother.” With that, I left the house without looking back. Lance and Vanessa both rushed after me. Vanessa, trembling, grabbed my arm, tears streaming down her face. “Chloe, don’t go! I can explain! I really did envy your happy family, but I never intended to destroy it. Lance truly loves you; there’s nothing between us. I can stop being Ethan’s aunt. If you don’t want to see me, I’ll leave. I’ll disappear forever, okay?” I shook her off. “Vanessa, even now, you’re still acting. You claim to be my best friend, yet you snuck into my husband’s bed behind my back. When you were kissing and hugging him, did you ever think of us as friends?” “Presuming on my trust, doing something so shameless, aren’t you afraid of karma?” I couldn’t be bothered to listen to their continued excuses and justifications. I simply shoved the hospital photo of Lance kissing her in front of them. Lance’s pupils constricted. The composure he had maintained finally cracked. “How did you end up at the hospital?” he asked, his voice dry. “Chloe, I’m sorry.” I stared at him, asking word for word, “When did you start the affair?” Lance was silent. After a long pause, he finally managed to squeeze out a single sentence. “When… you were pregnant, I was drunk and lost control.” Tears streamed from my eyes. Hatred almost consumed my last shred of sanity. I raised my hand and slapped his face. “Lance, you bastard! Who was it who pointed fingers and cursed men who couldn’t control themselves as disgusting?” “Who swore at our proposal that if he ever betrayed me, he would meet a terrible end?” Before he could speak, I slapped him again with my other hand. “Now you’ve cheated, you’ve betrayed me, so why aren’t you dead yet?!” Vanessa cried, lunging forward, arms outstretched to shield Lance. “Don’t hit him, Chloe! It’s all my fault! I was the one who fell for Lance first. I wanted to keep it a secret forever, but feelings are truly uncontrollable.” Lance pulled her closer into his embrace. “Chloe, it’s true that cheating was my fault. But after we got married, you focused entirely on the company, always talking to me about clients, reports, and performance.” “After you got pregnant, you constantly talked about the child.” “I’m a man; I have desires too. Did you ever consider my feelings?” I found it utterly ridiculous. “Lance, do you have a conscience? You were the one who said you were too young to control the old guard at the company. You and your mother begged me to join the company to help you get established.” “You come home from work, say you’re tired, and then feel perfectly justified in doing your own thing. What about me? After I come home, not only do I have to spend time with Ethan and research his allergy-friendly recipes, but after he’s asleep, I still have to work overtime to prepare for the next day’s meeting materials.” “I’m so busy I only get five hours of sleep a night. Did you ever ask if I was tired?” I stared intently at him. “You cheated because you’re selfish. Don’t try to blame me.” “You don’t deserve it.” “Lance, I want a divorce.” Lance released Vanessa, took two steps forward, massaged his jaw, and gave a short, bitter laugh. “Chloe, can you really give it up? Without the Holloway family, how would you have climbed to your current position?” “Stop this nonsense. I never intended for anyone else to take your place as Mrs. Holloway.” Vanessa stumbled, then suddenly clutched her abdomen, her face pale. “Chloe, don’t divorce Lance. I’ll get rid of the baby, disappear forever, and never appear before you again. Please forgive me, okay?” Lance spun around, seizing her wrist, and raised his voice. “You’re pregnant? Why didn’t you tell me?” Vanessa slumped weakly into his arms, her eyelashes trembling. “I didn’t want to put you in a difficult position. I felt so guilty towards Chloe.” “Lance, my stomach hurts so much.” “This baby, he shouldn’t have come…” Lance broke out in a sweat, yelling back towards the door, “Driver, hurry up and drive! To the hospital immediately!” He didn’t spare me another glance. I stood rooted to the spot, a cold sneer in my heart. So, this was Vanessa’s trump card. But she didn’t know that this card would also lead her to ruin.

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After spending a fortune to get the social media contacts of the Head Cheerleader and the Campus Queen Bee, others might dream of dating them. I was different. I wanted to set them up. Through my relentless efforts… The Campus Queen Bee and the Head Cheerleader started dating. I was there, popcorn in hand, ready for the big reveal. But it turned out to be a disaster, and they both turned on me, dragging me into the spotlight. The Head Cheerleader screamed, “Is this the adorable campus sweetheart you found for me?!” The Campus Queen Bee burst into tears, “You owe me a six-foot-tall, aloof boyfriend!” 01 Beside the club recruitment booth, a guy was mysteriously hawking… “Get the Campus Queen Bee and Head Cheerleader’s contacts! Fifty bucks for both!” No one believed him. Only I stepped forward and asked, “For real?” The guy pulled out his phone and scanned the QR codes for me on the spot. “Guaranteed, bro!” Without thinking twice, I added both accounts. “Added!” “Sweet, bro!” The guy grabbed the money and sprinted off. I stared at the two new contacts on my phone. Had I just been scammed? Head Cheerleader Blair Thompson’s profile picture was an abstract smiley face, and Campus Queen Bee Riley Vance’s was a goofy husky. Was this… legit? 02 Back in my dorm, I told my roommates about it. They didn’t believe me. “You totally got scammed.” “I’ve got Blair’s contact on my phone, and her profile picture is clearly an ice-queen goddess.” “Exactly! Riley’s profile picture is an anime character, no way she’d use some funny dog pic!” “Feeling sorry for you for a second there, how could you fall for that and lose fifty bucks!” I sighed, staring at the two profile pictures. “Seriously, I’m done.” My allowance was already tight, and now I’d been fleeced for fifty bucks. What a total chump! Just as I spiraled into endless regret, the husky profile picture sent me a message: Who’s this? I hesitated for a few moments before replying. Classmate. Well, I’d added them. I might as well just imagine this person as the Campus Queen Bee and picture her beautiful face. Husky: Oh. So aloof? I fidgeted, racking my brain until I finally squeezed out a question: Are you from Alistair University too? Husky: Yeah, you too? Yep. After that, another silence. I really sucked at chatting. If only there was an AI auto-reply. 03 The day after I added them, those two contacts lay dormant in my chat list, as silent as the grave. During a boring lecture, I clicked into Blair’s chatbox and poked her. Smiley: ? Hello. Smiley: Something up? So direct? How was I supposed to respond to that? Are you Blair Thompson? Smiley: Yeah, something up? Quite bold, actually. She admitted it. Alright, I’ll tease her. Looking for a relationship? Smiley: Not considering it at the moment. Got someone you like? Smiley: A little interested, but not exactly “like.” Oh, she has someone she’s interested in. I immediately typed: Who? There was a moment of hesitation. Smiley: Who are you? “…” Why did everyone ask who I was? What should I say? Got it! I typed a string of words and, closing my eyes, hit send: I’m setting people up. Interested? Smiley: Setting up what? You know, a boyfriend. No reply for a long time. What was it with her and the husky profile pic? Did they just love disappearing acts? I just sent over the Campus Queen Bee’s contact. With a caption: A cute campus sweetheart, great at gaming, super handsome, and a killer voice! These two were meant to be. I turned off my phone and focused on the lecture. 04 Smiley: ? To ensure Smiley didn’t sit around, I sent the Head Cheerleader’s contact to the Campus Queen Bee. With a caption: A six-foot-tall, aloof hunk, great at gaming, and a straight-A student! Husky: ? What did those question marks mean? Not interested? I messaged Husky: The guy I set you up with. If he’s not good, return him to me. Husky: Guaranteed? Watching Husky gradually fall into the trap, I couldn’t hide my excitement any longer. Absolutely guaranteed! Turns out, people never get tired when they’re up to no good. I then messaged Smiley: A cute campus sweetheart, return if not pure. Smiley: What kind of scheme is this? A path that leads you to both a successful career and a flourishing love life! … Ah, this should seal the deal. 05 Two days later, rumors spread across campus: the Head Cheerleader was in love. She’d spend lectures staring at her phone, giggling like an idiot. In my dorm, everyone except me was crying their eyes out. “I’m heartbroken!” “Who did the Head Cheerleader fall for?” “No news on the forums at all! I’m dying to know! Are they actually dating or not?” “Her roommates said she is, so she must be!” They chattered on, completely absorbed. I listened quietly from the side until someone noticed me. “Alex, why aren’t you sad?” “Yeah, weren’t you Blair’s biggest fan?” Turns out, one lie requires a thousand more to cover it. When I first moved into this dorm, to get along with them, I’d claimed to be a fan of Blair. That’s how I found common ground with them. I forced out two fake tears. “I’m heartbroken inside. I’m going to lie down.” “We know you’re hit the hardest. Go rest.” Only after I got into bed did I let out a sigh of relief. My phone suddenly exploded with notifications. Smiley: Thanks for setting me up. Here’s a little token of my appreciation. Followed by a digital red envelope. Husky: This aloof hunk is truly amazing! Here’s a little token of my appreciation! Followed by a digital red envelope. I shot up, wide-eyed. Holy smokes! This actually worked! I was a matchmaker now? 06 “Alex, are you okay?” My sudden movement was too loud, and my roommate asked with concern. I coughed, feigning composure. “I’m fine.” Then I quietly accepted both red envelopes. Smiley sent a generous $388, and Husky sent $1000. I’d made back the fifty bucks I’d been scammed out of and then some! This was awesome! I truly had the potential to be a matchmaker! I sent both of them a message: Wishing you two the best! When I logged into my game, I saw both their accounts were online. Just as I was about to start a match, they simultaneously pulled me into a private room. Smiley: You join too. We need a support. Wait. What was happening? Before I could decline, the game instantly started. A social media message popped up. Husky: He’s too good! I’m playing a bit poorly, and it’s awkward with him around! Was I just part of their game? What do you mean? Husky: You’re worse than me. Distract him. My blood pressure spiked, but remembering that thousand bucks, I forced it down. Okay. Smiley: He’s playing really cute, but he seems shy. He might not open up as much if you’re there. Me: … $388 is still money. I had to endure. 07 The game started. Smiley was jungle, Husky was mid-lane. And I, because I was replying to their messages, was forced to pick a healer! Early game, Husky: Go support the carry lane. Mid-game, Smiley: Go protect mid-lane. Late game, Husky: Go protect the jungler. By the end of the game, my in-game shoes were practically falling apart. After we finished, I immediately left the private room. I was just about to start my own game to relax. Husky: Are you his friend? What does he like? I want to get him a gift. Smiley: He’s your friend, right? I want to know what he likes, I want to get him a gift. Dude! Are you two really playing this Campus Queen Bee and Head Cheerleader dating game? Again, money’s hard to earn, and some things are just tough to stomach. What else could I do? I had an idea. I asked Husky: Is there anything you particularly like? I sent the same question to Smiley. Husky: I like collecting sneakers. I’m pretty athletic. Smiley: Nothing specific, just cute things. Isn’t this perfect? What were they so shy about? Did they really have to act so convincingly? I copied and pasted their exact words to each other. Not long after, Husky sent two pictures: Which one should I choose, do you think? They both looked the same, damn it. I just casually picked one. The second one. Husky: Exactly what I thought. Heh. At midnight, just as I was getting ready to sleep, Smiley: Are you asleep? Not asleep, but I’m about to break. What’s up, honey? Smiley: I want to ask him his shoe size. I sent the question to Husky. Husky: Nine. I replied to Smiley: Nine. Smiley: That… that small? I was so tired I typed with my eyes closed. Why don’t you ask him yourself? …No need. Seriously, this was annoying! 08 In the morning, I opened social media and nearly fainted. Messages: 99+. Had I committed some divine offense? These two lunatics! If they wanted to date, they should do it privately! I scrolled through and gathered they’d had a fight. Smiley thought Husky wasn’t ambitious enough, and Husky thought Smiley was too serious. They’d debated right and wrong all night, even creating a special group chat for it. The group kept tagging me, asking who was right and who was wrong. I swear, if it weren’t for the post-sales service, I’d block them both right now. “Alex, are you up?” “Yeah, what’s up?” “Nothing, we just didn’t want our crying to bother you.” My mouth twitched. “What happened now?” “You don’t know? Blair posted on the campus forum, basically making it official!” “I still don’t know who the guy is! Who could have landed the ice-queen Head Cheerleader?!” “Holy sh*t! I can’t live anymore!” I looked at my roommate, who had just sprung out of bed. “What’s wrong with you?” “The Campus Queen Bee is dating too! I’m crying my eyes out!” Damn, I almost forgot, this dorm also had a Campus Queen Bee fanboy. “What’s going on? Are all the pretty girls suddenly dating?” “They’re all taken. What pretty girls am I supposed to look at now?” “My emotional support isn’t working!” The dorm echoed with wails and lamentations before everyone finally headed to their 8 AM class. 09 During class, as I dozed off, my phone suddenly vibrated. Husky: Forgot to ask, what’s your name? I typed with my eyes half-closed and sent: Alex Quinn. Two minutes later, I shot my eyes open and grabbed my phone. Damn it, undo! Undo! Crap, why did I just give away my name? I’m screwed, totally screwed! My roommate asked, “What’s wrong with you?” “I’m kind of dying.” “Well, hurry up, class is almost over.” Husky: That’s a nice name. I’ll call you Alex from now on. I—was—DOOMED. 10. After playing dead for two days, I saw both of them post on social media simultaneously. The real Blair Thompson, the Head Cheerleader, posted a selfie. In her hand, she held a doll that Riley Vance had given her. Blair: See this, see me. And the real Riley Vance, the Campus Queen Bee, posted a mirror selfie wearing shoes Blair had given her. Riley: Never thought my first online romance would be true love. You gotta be kidding me! These are real people?! I’m truly in trouble now! My head spun. I felt like the rest of my life was going to be a disaster. Right, right, I need to break them up first. I messaged Husky: Forgot to tell you, I introduced you to the wrong person. I don’t even know that person. In my panic, I accidentally forwarded the same message directly to Smiley. Smiley: ? Smiley: What do you mean? Trying to stir trouble? Damn it! How could a person make the same mistake twice in a row?! I’m being framed! I also forgot to tell you, I introduced you to the wrong person. I don’t know anyone named him. Smiley: It’s fine, we get along, and we’re about to meet in person. Meet… meet in person?! Holy crap, are two girls dating in fast-forward? Meeting so quickly! No, no, if I get exposed, Riley Vance, the Campus Queen Bee, won’t let me off the hook. I might not get into Harvard, but I definitely don’t want to get beaten up! 11. So, I harassed them both morning, noon, and night. I became the person I once hated most. Even an outsider like me can see you two aren’t a good match! If you stay together for long, you’ll definitely argue all the time! Blair: It’s fine, I’ll be accommodating. You’ll accommodate my foot! During the debate competition, I was pushed in as a last-minute replacement for my club and Blair absolutely shredded me. I couldn’t get a single word in. Blair’s mouth was like it was coated in poison. One lick and I’d poison myself. Riley: I have a good temper. You have a good temper my butt! I still remember when Riley got into a conflict on the basketball court freshman year and, in a fit of pique, threw the ball, hitting me. I’ve had a fear of basketball courts ever since. Seeing I couldn’t argue with them, I could only say: Log on! Let’s play a game! They say gaming can make feelings fade. I didn’t believe it. I was going to mess things up so badly they’d have to break up! Blair: What are we playing? Me: Ranked! Okay. As soon as the game started, I deliberately sabotaged Riley. She immediately typed a furious message to me: What’s wrong with you?! Why didn’t you block that skill for me?! Me: I didn’t buy boots, I couldn’t move fast enough. Wasn’t it because you’re bad that you died? Riley: You were clearly standing still! All the enemy damage went straight to me! Me: Say whatever you want. I think I played pretty well. I went to follow Blair. After a few kills, Blair typed: He’s playing pretty well. Riley: Why are you defending him? Blair: I watched his plays, they really were fine. Riley: So it’s my fault then?! Blair: No, no, it has nothing to do with you. Riley: Right, right, it has nothing to do with me! Blair: I didn’t… mean it like that. My mouth was practically splitting from smiling. Argue, argue, more fiercely! I refuse to believe they won’t break up after this! 12. Just one game, and these two were already arguing offline. As I was happily drifting off to sleep, Riley messaged: Oh right, we’re meeting up in two days. You should come too. I shot up, wide awake. No way… What did you say? Meeting up? Riley: Yeah, we’re in the same school anyway, it’s not hard to meet. No way! You don’t even know who they are, and you’re just going to meet them? What if it’s… Riley: Well, you’ll be there, right? You were the matchmaker, you have to help me vet them carefully. Was it too late to give the money back? I’m not going. I have plans in two days. Riley: What plans are more important than us meeting? Oh, and I got you a gift. She sent a photo. Cartier!? Holy smokes! I’m there! I’m there! You shouldn’t have bothered with a gift. I’ll treat you all to dinner depending on how things go. I wondered if they’d even have dinner after they met. Anyway, it felt like I could save some money. At most, I’d just get beaten up, and I’ve been tough since childhood. I’ll be fine!

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On the day I thought I had legally bound my life to the man I loved, I spent all afternoon in the kitchen. I prepared a massive, elaborate dinner—his favorites—just waiting for him to come home so we could pop the champagne and celebrate. I called him, just to ask how far away he was. The call connected, but instead of his voice, I heard the muffled, echoing acoustics of a bar, and then, a conversation that made the blood freeze in my veins. “Man, your girl is dangerously gullible,” one of his friends was laughing. “A fake marriage license from some novelty website, without even a raised county seal, and she actually bought it.” “Hey, if Maddie and I hadn’t already gone to City Hall and gotten the real one, we wouldn’t have had to pay those guys to play-act as county clerks today,” my boyfriend—my supposed husband—replied. Then came Connor’s careless, dismissive scoff. A sound I had heard him make a thousand times about things that didn’t matter to him. “Don’t call her my girl. That kind of pathetic doormat is only good for being a free maid.” The ice in his voice was casual, which somehow made it worse. “Maddie and I grew up together. We’ve been best friends for over a decade. In my heart, she’s always been the only one who matters.” I stood perfectly still in my kitchen. The pristine, fake marriage certificate crumpled in my tightening grip. The tears came fast and silent, blurring the lavish spread of food on the counter. Five years. I had loved this man for five years, shrinking myself to fit his needs, only to realize I was nothing but unpaid domestic help. The man I had desperately wanted to marry had never loved me at all. I took a shaky breath, swiped the tears from my face, and dialed a different number. The one I knew by heart. “Are you free?” I asked when he picked up. “Let’s go get married.” 1 It wasn’t until I held a real, government-issued marriage license in my hands that I realized just how insulting Connor’s forgery had been. It didn’t even have a watermark. “Pack your things and get out of that cursed house,” Cole said, his voice flat and unreadable as he tucked our new legal document into the inner pocket of his leather jacket. “Give me two days. I have some business to handle first. It’s about to pour—I called a car for you.” My childhood best friend delivered the instruction with a cool detachment, then ducked into a waiting black SUV. I rubbed my thumb over the empty space in my pocket where my fake license used to be, and slipped into the back of the town car he’d hailed for me. Just as he predicted, the sky broke open, rain violently lashing against the windows. As if on cue, my phone vibrated. It was Connor. “Where are you? It’s pouring. Why aren’t you home yet?” Once upon a time, I would have softened at his tone. I would have playfully begged him to come pick me up. But the illusion was shattered. The love and the marriage he gave me were counterfeit. And just like that, whatever was left of my heart turned to ash. When I didn’t immediately answer, his voice spiked with irritation. “Look, wherever you are, hurry up and get back. We haven’t eaten yet.” We. Before I could say a word, the line went dead. I let out a hollow, bitter laugh, dropping the phone into my purse. I directed the driver back to the place I had called home for the last five years. My intuition had been dead on. When I walked through the door, Madison was already there. She was sprawled comfortably on my sofa, popping grapes into her mouth. Right beside her sat a matching designer luggage set, plastered with travel stickers. Seeing me dripping wet in the entryway, Connor immediately frowned. “Hurry up and start cooking. Maddie and I already picked up the groceries on the way back, so we saved you some trouble.” He paused, not quite meeting my eyes. “Oh, by the way. Maddie’s lease is up. She’s going to be staying here from now on. When you’re done with dinner, go clear out the guest room.” Whenever Madison or his frat-boy friends were around, Connor always turned the dial up on his arrogance. He liked to put on a show of how easily he controlled me. In the beginning of our relationship, he used to apologize for it in private, claiming it was just his “pride” acting up in front of the guys. Now, he didn’t even bother with the apologies. My infinite patience had simply become his entitlement. A hysterical smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. Before I could speak, Madison mistook my silence for submission. She reached into her Prada bag, pulled out a crisp sheet of paper, and held it out to me with a saccharine, challenging smile. “Harper,” she purred. “Since we’re all going to be living together, I really hope we can keep the peace. If you’re okay with this roommate agreement, just sign at the bottom. You wouldn’t want to make things difficult for Connor, would you?” I dropped my gaze to the paper. I only had to read the first bullet point to feel a surge of pure, unadulterated disbelief. 1. As this is Connor’s house, you have no right to dictate who he sleeps with at night. Connor’s house? The sheer audacity of it knocked the wind out of me. Because his old apartment was a terrible commute to his office, he had moved into my newly purchased townhouse three years ago. He had sworn up and down that once we got married, we’d buy a massive estate together. He promised we’d move my parents into this house so we could take care of them as they aged. Empty words. He hadn’t kept a single promise he’d ever made me. When I didn’t take the paper, Connor clicked his tongue, impatient. “Maddie is just trying to establish boundaries so we’re all comfortable. Don’t be unreasonable, Harper. I’ll even invite a few of the guys over later, and we can call it a celebration of us tying the knot today.” Every time he invited his leeches over, I spent four hours sweating in the kitchen. I wasn’t just his unpaid maid; I was the catering service for his entourage. I’d played the role of the docile servant for five years. I was entirely suffocated by it. “No need,” I said, my voice shockingly steady. “I’m not signing anything. Furthermore, this is my house. Both of you need to leave.” 2 Connor’s face twisted into a mocking sneer. “Harper, do you honestly think that just because we got a piece of paper today, you can suddenly start calling the shots?” He stepped closer, towering over me. “Maddie and I grew up together. I don’t care if I’m married; I am never going to leave her out in the cold.” How could someone deliver such a shameless, disgusting line with such self-righteous conviction? The clearer I saw him, the more my stomach churned with nausea. I let out a dark, freezing laugh. “If she matters that much to you, why didn’t you just marry her?” I tilted my head, feigning innocence. “Or… have you already done that?” Connor’s face went rigid. The color completely drained from his cheeks. Just as the silence stretched to a breaking point, Madison whined from the couch. “Aren’t you going to make dinner? Connor, I’m literally starving to death…” It was the lifeline he needed. Connor let out a forced, awkward chuckle and immediately seized on her complaint. “Stop talking nonsense, Harper. I know you’re just throwing a tantrum because you don’t want to sign the agreement. Forget it. Maddie is hungry. Just go make the food.” I was completely done watching this pathetic theatrical performance. I turned on my heel and walked down the hall to my bedroom. Except, it wasn’t my bedroom anymore. Everything I owned—my clothes, my books, my perfumes—had been violently swept off the surfaces and dumped into messy piles on the hardwood floor. “Oh, Harper,” Madison said, trailing right behind me. She stood in the doorway, surveying the wreckage with a triumphant gleam in her eyes. “Connor said I should take the master bedroom since my immune system is so delicate. The morning light in here is better. You don’t mind, do you?” Connor materialized behind her, showing zero remorse. In fact, he looked indignant. “Maddie’s health has always been fragile. It makes perfect sense for her to have the warmest room. Hurry up and move your trash into the guest room. She doesn’t have any space to unpack.” I stared at my vanity. It was already overflowing with her expensive skincare bottles. Then I looked at the floor. My favorite foundation was shattered. A framed photograph of Connor and me—taken on our second anniversary—lay face down, the glass spider-webbed and completely destroyed. Looking at my desecrated sanctuary, a hot, blinding rage broke through the numbness. I slowly lifted my eyes to Connor. They were bloodshot. For a fraction of a second, he looked away, a flicker of genuine guilt crossing his features. But that guilt vanished the second I stepped forward and, with one brutal sweep of my arm, sent every single one of Madison’s expensive glass bottles crashing to the floor. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” Connor roared. He lunged forward and grabbed my arm. The sheer, terrifying force of his grip spun me around, and he threw me backward. I lost my footing and went down hard, right into the pile of my own broken picture frame. Shards of glass sliced deep into the palm of my hand and my bare knee. The physical pain was blinding, sharp and hot, but it was absolutely nothing compared to the sickening, hollow crack of my heart finally shattering into dust. “Are you insane?!” Connor yelled, ignoring the blood beginning to pool on the floorboards. “How dare you destroy Maddie’s things? Apologize to her right now!” He saw the glass embedded in my skin. He saw the blood blooming down my leg. And yet, because I had touched herthings, he wanted me on my knees. I planted my bleeding hand on the floor and forced myself to stand, trembling violently. The shard of glass sticking out of my knee was a horrific sight. “Oh, so my things are allowed to be destroyed?” I breathed out, my voice vibrating with a terrifying calm. “Let me make this perfectly clear, Connor. This is my home. My name is on the deed. I want both of you out. Now.” Because I was trembling so hard, my new, legitimate marriage certificate slipped from my pocket and landed on the floor. Connor glanced down at it. A cruel, condescending smirk spread across his face. He bent down, picked it up, and flipped open the heavy cardstock cover. Before his eyes could focus on the page, Madison gasped dramatically, clutching his arm. “Connor, if she’s going to be this violent, I’ll just leave. I’m actually scared of her. Just let me go.” She squeezed out two perfectly timed, crocodile tears. Hearing her cry, Connor immediately dropped the little booklet back onto the floor like it burned him. He wrapped his arms around her, gently wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Hey, don’t cry.” He shot me a look of pure venom, pulling her tighter against his chest as he guided her toward the front door. “If she leaves, I’m leaving. You’re going to regret this, Harper.” He was right about one thing. I did regret it. I regretted not seeing him for what he was years ago. I regretted letting him strip me down until I was hollow, bruised, and bleeding. But as the front door slammed shut, a twisted sense of disappointment washed over me. I looked at the little booklet lying on the floor. It was a shame he dropped it so fast. I had really been looking forward to seeing the look on his face when he realized the husband in the photograph wasn’t him. 3 I took an Uber to the ER to get the glass removed and my wounds stitched and bandaged. On the ride back to my eerily quiet house, my phone buzzed. A text from Madison. Two photos. Two sentences. The first photo was a crystal-clear shot of her and Connor holding a real, county-certified marriage license. The second was a shot of a garbage can, with a torn, used condom wrapper resting on top. Does your little certificate have a real government seal? I’m the real wife. So I get to sleep with him first. It was almost comical. I stared at my heavily bandaged hand resting in my lap. I didn’t type a single word in response. I just blocked her number and deleted the thread. People who belong in the trash aren’t worth my mental energy anymore. I tossed and turned all night in the guest bed. First thing in the morning, I hired a deep-cleaning service. But before I could even start bagging up the rest of Connor’s belongings to throw on the lawn, I heard the electronic chirp of the front door unlocking. Connor strode in like he owned the place, laughing loudly, flanked by Madison and three of his worst frat-house buddies. “Hey, little wifey!” one of his friends shouted, tossing his keys on the counter. “We’re craving seafood today. Do us a favor and run to the market, yeah? Grab some lobsters—Maine only—and some good sea bass.” “She’s loaded, man,” another guy laughed. “She always gets us the good stuff. Hey, she loves our boy Connor, so we get to reap the benefits, right?” I stood in the hallway, staring at the ugly, entitled expressions on their faces. The arrogance of men who hitched a ride on Connor’s coattails. The first time they called me “little wifey,” I had naively asked why they added “little.” They laughed and said it was because I was younger than them, and they didn’t want to make me feel old. Thinking back on it now made me physically ill. They called me “little” because Connor and Madison were already secretly married. Madison was the real wife. I had swallowed their inside joke with a smile. “Don’t call me that,” I said, my voice slicing through the room like a blade. “If you want seafood, buy it yourselves. And get the hell out of my house.” The laughter died instantly. The room went dead silent. Connor’s face darkened into a furious scowl. He puffed his chest out and raised his voice, clearly trying to assert his dominance in front of his audience. “How the hell are you speaking to my friends, Harper? Apologize to them immediately. And then go buy the damn groceries. Consider it your way of making amends.” All he ever knew how to do was demand my apologies. There was a time when he actually protected me. When we first started dating, one of these exact guys joked that I was only with Connor for his money. Connor had nearly gotten into a fistfight over it, demanding the guy give me a formal apology before he’d speak to him again. On our first anniversary, a restaurant accidentally brought out a soup with clam broth. Knowing I had a severe shellfish allergy, Connor made the manager and the entire waitstaff come to the table to apologize. Now, he was demanding I go buy him lobster. I wondered if he even remembered the allergy. Right on cue, Madison’s bottom lip began to quiver. She clung to Connor’s bicep, looking utterly heartbroken. “Connor… I don’t think Harper wants us here. We only came over to celebrate you guys getting married yesterday…” She placed a heavy, mocking emphasis on the word married. The guys immediately joined in, letting out a chorus of fake, exaggerated aww’s. “Oh, yeah!” Madison suddenly chirped, her eyes lighting up. “Harper, show them your marriage license! Let’s all see it!” She immediately started darting around the living room. In the chaos of last night, I had left the certificate sitting on the TV console. Madison spotted it instantly, snatching it up like a trophy. “Who wants to see the happy couple’s certificate?” she sang. My blood ran cold. I stepped forward, holding out my bandaged hand. “Give it back.” But Madison just giggled, maliciously locking eyes with me as she tossed the booklet over my head to one of Connor’s friends. I lunged for it, but they turned it into a game of keep-away, laughing as they tossed my marriage license back and forth across the room. Finally, the booklet landed squarely against Connor’s chest. He caught it. “You left it right out in the open. You clearly wanted everyone to look at it,” Connor sneered, entirely too pleased with himself as he opened the cover. “Let’s all take a good look, then.” 4 He opened the little booklet and held it up, his eyes scanning the page. Staring back at him was a perfectly legal, county-sealed photograph of Cole and me, looking entirely at peace beside each other. But I wasn’t about to let him process it at his own pace. I marched forward, snatched the certificate right out of his hands, and shoved it deep into my pocket. I needed these parasites out of my house right now. “I told you,” I said, my voice deadly low. “This is my house. Get out, or I am calling the police.” I turned my back on them, walking toward the dining table where a steaming bowl of instant ramen I’d just made for myself was sitting. I glanced back over my shoulder. “And take your trash with you. I left your boxes by the front door. Don’t ever step foot in my life again.” Connor looked paralyzed. Even Madison looked genuinely shocked. “Harper… are you breaking up with him?” she asked, her voice faltering. “Are you just saying this because you hate me? Because if you are, I’ll just leave.” She made a dramatic pivot toward the door, but as she spun, her hand strategically ‘slipped,’ violently backhanding the hot bowl of ramen right off the table. The boiling broth splashed directly onto my legs. I shrieked, jumping back blindly, knocking over a heavy wooden chair in the process. I tangled in the legs of the chair and crashed hard onto the floor. “Ah! It burned me!” Madison screamed instantly, clutching her perfectly fine wrist and bursting into hysterical tears. Connor didn’t even look at me on the floor. He crossed the room in two strides, wrapping Madison in his arms, his eyes blazing with fury as he glared down at me. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you, Harper?!” he roared. “Don’t think just because we have a piece of paper you can do whatever the hell you want to her!” I pushed myself off the floor, gritting my teeth against the searing pain of the burn and the fresh throbbing in my stitches. Compared to the physical agony, looking at this man I had worshipped for five years was a far worse torment. If you stop loving someone, fine. But why the cruel deception? Did my infinite patience just translate to an invitation for abuse? Was I just a prop to stroke his ego in front of his friends? I looked at him, a cold, empty smile spreading across my face. “Did we really get a piece of paper, Connor?” I asked, my voice deadly quiet. “Is it really my name listed as the spouse on your marriage license?” Connor froze. The anger instantly evaporated from his face, replaced by a sickening, unmistakable guilt. He looked at the floor, unable to meet my eyes. “What are you talking about?” he stammered defensively. “We went to get the license together. You know whose name is on it.” The absolute lack of shame was breathtaking. I pulled out my phone, pulled up the blocked messages folder, and shoved the screen in his face. “Take a look for yourself. Am I talking nonsense, or is your actual wife talking nonsense?” Faced with undeniable proof, his bluster completely collapsed. He clearly hadn’t anticipated Madison bragging about it to me. He shot her a vicious glare, then looked back at me, rubbing the back of his neck in irritation. “Look, if she hadn’t pressured me into marrying her, I wouldn’t have had to lie to you,” he snapped, somehow making himself the victim. “Stop being so dramatic about it. Give it a couple of days, and I’ll take you down to City Hall to get a real one. It’s fine.” I almost laughed until I choked. The sheer, delusion arrogance to think I was still sitting around, begging for his ring. Before I could reply, the heavy front door swung open again. A deeply familiar, dangerously calm voice drawled from the entryway. “Awfully crowded in here. Did you all come to congratulate my wife and me on our wedding?”

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The end of the world didn’t arrive with a bang, but with a sound much more intimate. Every night, there is a scratching at the door. Those who open it simply vanish. No one can explain how this catastrophe began, nor does anyone know if there will ever be a morning where it ends. 1 It is exactly midnight, and the thing outside is getting louder. I’ve constructed a fortress on my bed using a weighted blanket and a duvet—a psychological barrier, if nothing else. I check my phone. Twelve percent battery. In a night without electricity, that glowing bar is the closest thing I have to a companion. Iris: You really don’t want to know what it is? A notification slides onto my screen. It’s from my girlfriend. Well, “girlfriend” is a loose term. It started a week ago. The scratching woke the world up. Everyone who opened their doors to investigate disappeared into the dark. The government collapsed within days; the grid went down; cities became isolated islands. We were left with the “Self-Rescue” protocol. Every night, I hear weeping. Every night, someone’s resolve breaks, they open the door, and they are gone. The scratching continues until 5:00 AM. Then, as if a switch is flipped, humanity falls into a collective, comatose sleep. We wake up with the night’s terror wiped from our memories. The world functions: traffic flows, baristas pour coffee, the stock market ticks. But at 11:00 PM, the memories crash back in. The terror returns. The missing people are remembered. And at midnight, the scratching begins again. Our reality has been cleaved in two: The Day: violently normal. Humans and machines obeying the algorithm of life as if the horror never happened. The Night: a silent void, filled only with the sound of claws on wood and the agonizing choice of whether to turn the handle. It took three nights for the survivor groups to figure it out. The announcement went out in the “Last Stand” group chat: “Residents, do not listen to the voices. Do not open the door. Repeat: DO NOT OPEN THE DOOR.” Those who leave never come back. Walk out, vanish. So, we stay in. I met Iris in a sub-group called “Apocalypse Survival Guide.” It was full of twenty-somethings, pragmatic science majors, and burned-out cynics. Our admin was a Ph.D. candidate in Nuclear Physics at MIT who rarely spoke, except to talk someone off a ledge. I was explaining to a frantic user why this wasn’t an elaborate prank or “performance art.” Iris chimed in. We clicked. Iris: We don’t know when we’ll die. We should probably date. I’ve never had a boyfriend before. Maybe it was the crushing nihilism of the chat room, but I hesitated for a second, then agreed. Iris: I bet a lot of girls like you, right? I gave a vague, non-committal answer. I’ve never dated anyone, but I didn’t want to be the guy who died a virgin andalone during the apocalypse. User_A: Is it aliens? Or did Cthulhu finally wake up? User_B: We’re screwed. Might as well end it now. At least I can choose how I go. User_C: Why? Can’t we fight back? User_B: …If it’s cosmic horror, fighting is useless. It always ends in tragedy. Iris: What are they talking about? She DM’d me. Me: Just a literary trope. Basically, the idea that the entity is so powerful that human resistance is futile. Iris: But in stories, isn’t there always a hero? Someone who suffers and sacrifices but eventually leads civilization to a rebirth? Me: Umm… usually. But cosmic horror is different. Or, look at it this way: If a hero leads humanity to a rebirth, is the civilization that rises from the ashes still human? Iris: Wow. That’s deep. My roommate, a guy who changes girlfriends like he changes socks, once told me: “When a girl says ‘That’s deep,’ she means ‘I have no idea what you just said, but I like you.’” Me: Did you buy the supplies? I changed the subject. I’d told her to stock up on first-aid kits, lithium batteries, bleach—the works. Iris: Of course! I always listen to my boyfriend. She sent a photo of a cramped storage closet overflowing with gear. See? I can barely close the door. Iris: So… you really aren’t curious about what’s outside? Me: Curious? Yes. But I’m terrified of dying. The most honest answer I could give. 2 The thing is, I don’t just hear scratching anymore. “Holden. Get out here. If you don’t come out, you’re going to die.” I’ve heard this voice every day for two years. It belongs to the guy who sleeps in the bunk above me. My best friend, the charismatic heartbreaker, Davis. Davis, usually I’d kill to hear you ramble about nothing. But for three nights straight, the moment the scratching starts, he’s out there at 12:00 AM sharp, repeating the same mantra. Come out. Or die. But tonight feels different. The scratching is softer, more frantic. And out of the corner of my eye, I swear I see something dart past the window. “Holden! Get out here! Before it’s too late!” Too late? What happens then? I don’t know what Davis is right now. Dead? Alive? Something in between? Do all the people who vanish end up as voices on the other side of the door? My door is an old solid wood slab with a heavy deadbolt. No peephole. No chain. To see him, I have to open it. My window faces east. I inch toward it, peeling back the curtain a fraction of an inch. Moonlight spills in—thin and pale—but the world outside is an impenetrable blur. My phone screen lights up, startling me so bad I nearly drop it. Iris. Iris: Holden… sobbing emoji …my best friend got taken. I know this happens every night, but reading her grief makes it real. Iris: Why didn’t she listen? Why did she go out? You go out, you die. Why did she do it?! “Holden, come out! Seriously, man, you’re running out of time!” Davis is screaming now. I feel a sudden spike of irritation. I don’t know how to comfort a crying girl over text, and Davis yelling in the hallway is ruining my focus. “You keep saying the same thing over and over! What are you? If you’re really Davis, tell me how the hell I’m supposed to comfort a girl!” The scratching stops instantly. Silence. Shit. Did I just say a trigger word? I crawl out of my blanket fortress, phone forgotten, and creep toward the door. Total silence. It’s as quiet as the grave. Iris: Holden? Are you there? My battery is red. I wish I could call you. I’m about to type back when a voice speaks from the hallway. Not screaming. Just talking. “Holden. You’re behind the door, right? Listen to me.” “When you comfort a girl, listen first. She might not want a solution; she just needs to vent. Then… give her a hug. Or send a hugging bear sticker. Or the rabbit patting the bear’s head.” What kind of psychological horror movie is this? It’s 1:30 AM. My maybe-dead-maybe-demon best friend is giving me dating advice through a locked door? Iris: Holden?! She’s desperate for a response. Me: I’m here. I pause, scroll through my sticker pack, and send the cartoon rabbit patting the bear’s head. “Holden. It’s me, Davis. I’m not dead. But if you don’t come out, I will be.” “How do I prove it’s really you?” I steady my breathing. I’m exhausted. The nights are draining the life out of me. “Remember my ex? The Music major? The one with the violin?” Everyone knew Davis dated the Music department’s golden girl. That’s public knowledge. “She came to our dorm to dump me at the start of the semester. She accused me of cheating. I denied it. You even vouched for me.” True. But also, not a secret. “I did cheat.” His voice is clear. Steady. That arrogance I know so well. You son of a bitch. “Holden, you snore. You talk in your sleep. You mumbled about…” Ding-ding-ding-ding. An incoming voice call. Iris. I thought she had no battery? “Holden!” “Holden!” They speak at the exact same time. The name I’ve carried for twenty-one years suddenly sounds alien. “Who is that?!” “Who is that?!” 3:00 AM. Separated by one door and one screen. Outside, the voice of my best friend. On the phone, the voice of the girl I’ve loved for three days. Iris sounds soft, terrified, bewildered. The silence stretches from the phone, fills the room, and bleeds through the door. A minute later, she hangs up. Dead battery? Or fear? Me: Iris? No reply. “Davis?” I whisper. Silence from the hallway. Then, the scratching begins again. Soft at first, then louder, joining a chorus of scratching sounds coming from the apartment next door, and the one below. Just like every other night. 3 At 5:00 AM, the world resets. But something has changed: I remember last night. I passed out from exhaustion and didn’t wake up until 9:00 AM. I bolt upright, heart hammering. Sunlight filters through the blinds, mocking me. Holy shit. The terror of the night hits me in a wave. I remember everything. I scramble to the window and rip the curtains open. The aggressive sunshine gives me a momentary hit of courage. Then I freeze. Along the edges of the window frame, there are gouges. Deep scratches, like a wild animal—or a person with very sharp tools—tried to get in. Bang! Bang! Bang! I scream. I haven’t even reached the door when my phone buzzes. “Holden! Open up!” It’s Brody, a guy from my calc class. I live off-campus in a studio because of my insomnia, but he crashes here sometimes. I open the door. He pushes past me. “Dude, where have you been? You promised to help with the club fair today!” Right. The Robotics Club meet-and-greet. I promised to be the face of the operation. “If you don’t show, the president is gonna eat us alive. You know the freshmen are only coming to see you.” He looks fresh. Rested. Like he gamed until midnight, slept like a baby, and woke up ready to seize the day. Am I the only one? “How was your night?” I ask, testing the waters. He looks at me weird. “Fine? Won ten ranked matches in a row.” “Did… did the power go out for you?” “Maybe? I slept through it if it did.” “You didn’t hear anything? Like… scratching?” “Scratching? Like a cat? Or…” He raises an eyebrow, grinning lewdly. “Or did you have a guest over?” “I just didn’t sleep well,” I say, deadpan. “Right, right. Hey, maybe you’ll find a girlfriend among the fresh meat today.” I ignore him. “Did you see Davis today?” “Davis? He’s in Boston for the competition, remember? Man, you really are out of it. You drove him to the airport.” Bullshit. I know he went to the competition. But how do I tell Brody that Davis spent the entire night clawing at my door? I follow him to the campus center, my mind racing. I need to check on Iris. Previous days, I’d wake up and the horror would be gone. Erased. Daytime: Normal. Nighttime: Hell. This is the first time the two worlds are bleeding together. I find a corner in the club room and pull out my phone. Nothing. The “Survival Guide” group is gone. Iris’s chat history is gone. I search my contacts. Fifty-seven friends. Three groups. They don’t exist. Around me, students are laughing, setting up banners, eating donuts. They look so happy. For the first time, their happiness makes my blood run cold. I hide behind a curtain in the corner, grab a notepad and a pen. When my mind is chaos, I write.

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Right before the New Year, the new transfer student started showing up constantly in front of my childhood friend and fiancé. Either she sprained her ankle, or she had a math problem she just couldn’t solve. But my fiancé was a severe germaphobe and a possessive psycho. When the transfer student intentionally hiked up her skirt and tried to fall into his arms right in front of me… He simply took a step back, coldly watching her tumble into the swimming pool, leaving her to flail in the water. “If you don’t want to live, dying is a fine option too.” 1 My childhood friend, Liam, was a germaphobe and a psycho. He couldn’t stand anyone touching him except me. When his condition was at its worst, even his parents couldn’t lay a finger on him. I was the only leash that could hold this wild dog. During my eighth-grade year, as the child of his family’s nanny, I started attending the elite private school alongside the young master. On my very first day, I walked past his classroom wearing the school uniform skirt. Some idiot decided to catcall me. The young master grabbed a chair and hurled it straight at him. Even in an elite school swarming with wealthy heirs. Liam was the undisputed top dog. When he charged out with bloodshot eyes, acting like a rabid dog… I simply stood there and softly called his name. He instantly stopped dead in his tracks. He turned around and looked at me, eyes filled with grievance. The mad dog instantly became a good boy. That same day, the news of the psycho campus idol being tamed spread throughout the school. Not long after, another saying began to circulate: If you offend Liam, Chloe might still plead for your life. If you offend Chloe, you’re looking at a dead end. It sounded a bit like something out of an anime, but it was highly accurate. This rumor persisted from middle school all the way through high school. Until our junior year, when some girl with a death wish decided to shatter it. 2 During our junior year, a transfer student joined our class. She had waist-length hair and an innocent face. The moment she appeared, she captured the attention of the entire class. Not because she was exceptionally beautiful, but because she looked so much like me. Even her aloof aura resembled mine somewhat. Liam stared at that face for a long moment. As the girl walked past us, she brushed her long hair and shot me a provocative look. It’s a pity she didn’t see it. While Liam was looking at her, his brow furrowed in utter disgust. After the first period, the teacher called me, the class president, into the office. The core message was to ask me to take good care of the new student. I nodded in agreement. When I returned to the classroom, I saw Liam waiting for me at the door, arms crossed. Seeing me, his eyes lit up, and he walked quickly toward me. The new student, Mia, happened to be walking past him. On a perfectly flat floor, her ankle miraculously twisted, and she fell with precision right toward Liam’s chest. Liam frowned and took a step back. With a loud thud. Mia hit the floor hard. Liam didn’t even spare her a glance as he quickly walked to my side. A smile played on his lips. 3 “What happened? What did the teacher want?” The woman on the floor shot me a venomous look. Remembering the teacher’s request, I sighed softly and offered her a hand. But the moment my fingertips brushed her, she threw herself back down heavily. She looked at me, tears welling in her eyes, looking as if she were about to cry. “Chloe, I just transferred here. I haven’t done anything to offend you, have I? Why are you treating me like this?” She lowered her eyes slightly. Her slender neck and smooth jawline were indeed quite pretty. Her tear-filled eyes were very pitiful and moving. The students chatting in twos and threes in the hallway all turned to look at her. She thought she had so easily seized the moral high ground. Little did she know, everyone else was just watching a joke. I had always been kind to everyone at school. Not only did I never use the “mad dog” to bite people indiscriminately, I actually frequently helped others. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have elected me class president. Liam stepped up beside me, going into full protective mode. His disgust was practically overflowing. The once-bustling hallway fell dead silent. Everyone backed away, terrified of getting caught in the crossfire. But Mia couldn’t read the room. She actually pointed at me and complained. “Liam, look at her.” Before the mad dog could escalate into a full-blown psycho, I grabbed his hand. “Let’s go. Looks like someone doesn’t need help.” Instantly, Liam’s eyes held nothing but me and our clasped hands. 4 The school had a two-hour lunch break. At noon, most students slept in their dorms. I left the dorm briefly to grab a book. As I passed the flowerbeds behind the cafeteria, I heard noises coming from inside. The young masters at this elite school played hard. Things that shouldn’t be seen happened often on campus. I wasn’t curious and even quickened my pace. But then, unexpectedly, I heard my own name. “That bitch Chloe is really in the way! Can’t you think of a way to get rid of her?” I peeked through the bushes and saw Mia sitting on a stone bench. Even more surprisingly, she was taking small bites from her lunchbox and hadn’t actually spoken out loud. Another voice, seemingly coming from nowhere, answered: “Then just gather more strategy points. Once your points are high enough, everything will be easy.” It was a slightly mature male voice, and it sounded very close. But looking around, I saw absolutely no one else near her. Adding the term “strategy points” to their conversation, I had a pretty good guess. “Didn’t you say this face is exactly Liam’s type? Why doesn’t he seem to feel anything when he looks at me?” “How do you know he feels nothing? The strategy meter clearly went up by one point.” I was genuinely surprised. I didn’t expect a mad dog like Liam to actually waver. “So what do we do next? The ‘innocent victim’ act isn’t working on him.” “Then change tactics. Men love novelty. Chloe always has that aloof, arrogant look. She probably rarely gives him any affection. You just need to act more enthusiastic.” “Fine, I’ll listen to you.” … I slipped away quietly. 5 Sure enough, that afternoon, Mia switched tactics. As soon as class ended, she ran over to our desks, clutching a workbook. Chirping like a little sparrow. The student sitting in front of us was incredibly annoyed and snapped coldly: “Are you done yet? The teacher just went over these problems. Were you not listening in class at all?” Mia flipped her hair: “Just because I listened doesn’t mean I can’t ask questions, right?” “These problems are so simple. If you listened and still don’t understand, maybe you should get your brain checked at a hospital.” “What do you know? I’m not really here to ask about the problems. I just want to talk to Liam.” She turned her head, rested her chin on her hand, and smiled at Liam. The smile was exceptionally bright, like a blooming sunflower. “Liam, I like you.” The classroom, which wasn’t very noisy to begin with, suddenly became so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Every single pair of eyes snapped toward us. Even the students who had fallen asleep were forcefully woken up to watch the drama. Liam looked at me, seemingly seeking my opinion. I turned my head away, pretending not to see. But the sound of his back teeth grinding together was incredibly clear. His voice was so cold it could freeze a person solid: “I don’t need you to like me. Get lost!” I turned my head back. Mia opened her cherry lips to speak again, but Liam just grabbed the nearest textbook and hurled it. “Do you not understand human language?” Low snickers rippled through the surrounding students. Shredding whatever little dignity Mia had left to pieces. She glared at me fiercely, stomped her foot, and stormed off. 6 The last class of the day was P.E. As soon as the bell rang, everyone rushed down to the field. Mia, still unwilling to give up, looked back at us one last time, only to be scared away by Liam’s icy glare. I slowly packed my things, waiting until everyone else had left before standing up. I had barely taken half a step when Liam grabbed my wrist and pulled me into his arms. His voice carried a hint of a whine, like a wronged puppy. “Why didn’t you look at me earlier?” “Look at you.” I lifted his chin. “Aren’t I looking at you right now?” “You’re brushing me off. I meant earlier, when she said she liked me, why didn’t you look at me?” I pretended to think about it. “Back then… you could handle it yourself, couldn’t you?” Even though he knew this wasn’t the real answer, his anger still dissipated. Or rather, he was never truly angry with me; he just needed to be coaxed. Don’t let his “mad dog” persona fool you. Underneath, he was just a pitiful dog with severe insecurity. And precisely because of that, he developed an intense possessiveness. He was terrified—terrified that someone would separate us again. “Can you let me go now?” I patted his hands resting on my waist. “You won’t leave me, right?” He stared at me, breathing heavily, his eyes desperate for an answer. I stroked his head, my tone gentle: “Of course not.” 7 During P.E. class. Mia was acting very sneakily. She wanted to get close to Liam, but was terrified of his glare. A few girls gathered around me and said: “Class Prez, shouldn’t you do something about her? This endless nonsense can’t go on.” “Mia’s only been here a day and she’s already acting like this. If you don’t step in, she’ll think she owns the place.” While they were talking, the conversation between Mia and the mature male voice continued: “Seriously, why are you chickening out? Go! This is your mission.” “Easy for you to say! That book barely missed my forehead earlier, and his eyes looked like he wanted to kill me.” “He won’t. He’s just a psycho, not a serial killer.” “Then you need to give me some time to recover! My heart is still pounding just thinking about what happened earlier.” “How are you going to accomplish anything great if you’re this timid? You can’t even complete mid-level worlds. How could I dare put you in an advanced world?” … From their conversation, I roughly deduced that Mia was a “System Host.” A common trope in web novels. Her purpose in coming to this world was to win over Liam. That mature male voice was her System, responsible for helping her. The only thing that puzzled me was why, for some reason, I could hear their conversation. “Did you guys hear an older man’s voice?” The girls next to me shook their heads. It seemed I was the only one who could hear it. Mia and her System started a pointless argument, and I shifted my focus back to the classmates around me. They were actually still discussing the previous topic. “Even though Liam only has eyes for you, Class Prez, she looks so much like you. Aren’t you afraid…” “What nonsense are you talking about? The Prez and Liam are perfectly fine.” “Oops, my bad. Don’t worry, Prez, Young Master Liam will definitely not betray you.” “Look at how cheap Mia is acting. I’m really afraid she’s going to throw herself at him.” … I turned my head and gave them my usual calm smile. “We’re all girls here. Let’s not say these speculative things.” They laughed awkwardly. “But… thank you for the warning. I’ll keep an eye out.” As I turned to leave, I crooked my finger at Liam. He immediately came trotting over happily. Where else could you find such a good dog?

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