Category: English

“Chloe, your position is being optimized.” Mr. Vance pushed a termination agreement across the desk toward me. Severance plus one month’s pay: $21,500. I had bled for this department for six years. Two thousand, one hundred and ninety days. Averaging twelve hours a day. I had personally negotiated supplier contracts totaling over a hundred million dollars. And right now, sitting next to Mr. Vance with her legs crossed, was Mia. She had only joined last month. She was the Vice President’s niece. Mr. Vance said she had “a lot of potential.” I glanced at the agreement and smiled. “Alright. I’ll sign.” Mr. Vance clearly froze for a second. He probably hadn’t expected me to be so agreeable. After all, shouldn’t the loyal workhorse he had personally trained be crying and begging for one more chance? I signed my name on the dotted line and pushed the agreement back. Then, I pulled out my phone and sent a text to Mr. Sterling: “Mr. Sterling, do you have a moment? I have some good news.” 01 When I first joined the company six years ago, Mr. Vance told me something. “Work hard, Chloe, and I won’t treat you unfairly.” I was fresh out of college back then and didn’t know anything. Mr. Vance started me on the most basic supplier liaison work. If others found a task too troublesome, I took it. If others didn’t want to travel, I went. In my first year, I went on forty-seven business trips. The furthest was a raw materials factory in the middle of nowhere. The factory owner’s name was Mr. Sterling, a man in his fifties. At first, he absolutely refused to work with us. “Your company’s payment terms are too long.” “I run a small factory; I can’t afford to front that kind of cash.” I didn’t leave. I waited outside his factory gates for three days. On the third day, there was a torrential downpour. I was soaked to the bone and running a fever. When Mr. Sterling came out for a smoke and saw me, he stood there stunned for a long time. “You stubborn girl, what are you trying to prove?” I said, “Mr. Sterling, the quality of your products is genuinely excellent.” “I don’t want our company to miss out on a supplier like you.” “I’ll find a way to fix the payment terms.” That night, Mr. Sterling bought me dinner. The next day, we signed the contract. As for the payment terms, I practically camped out in the finance department for two months, wearing them down until it was resolved. When Mr. Vance found out, he praised me during a department meeting. “Chloe works hard and has potential.” I thought that meant recognition. Only later did I realize it was just the beginning of endless unpaid overtime. 02 Mr. Sterling’s factory became one of our most stable suppliers. A year later, he introduced me to three other factories in the same industry. “Manager Hastings is a good person. You can’t go wrong working with her.” I wasn’t a manager, but Mr. Sterling always called me that. He said, “It’s only a matter of time.” I thought so too. At the end of my second year, the company held its Outstanding Employee awards. My performance ranked first in the department. But my name wasn’t on the list. Mr. Vance said, “Chloe, you’re still young. You’ll have plenty of opportunities.” “Let’s give it to old man Jenkins this year. He’s retiring soon.” I didn’t say anything. At the end of my third year, they held the awards again. My performance was still first in the department. My name still wasn’t on the list. Mr. Vance said, “Chloe, aren’t you being a bit too impatient?” “A person needs to know how to bide their time.” I still didn’t say anything. In my fourth year, I negotiated the largest supplier contract in the company’s history. A fifteen-million-dollar contract, and I haggled the payment terms down from ninety days to forty-five. Mr. Vance presented this case study at the executive meeting. His PowerPoint was fifty-eight slides long. He didn’t mention my name once from start to finish. After the meeting, the Vice President specifically asked, “Who followed up on this project?” Mr. Vance said, “It was a team effort by our department.” That night, I worked overtime alone in the office until 2:00 AM. I organized and filed all the project documents. Then I texted Mr. Sterling: “Mr. Sterling, thank you for always trusting me.” He replied, “Kid, if you need anything, just say the word.” I said, “Nothing’s wrong, just wanted to say thank you.” Actually, I should have understood then. But I didn’t. I was still waiting for that “matter of time.” 03 In my fifth year, the company started pushing a hardcore hustle culture. During a department meeting, Mr. Vance announced, “We are a core department; we need to lead by example.” “Starting this month, no one leaves before 9:00 PM.” “Saturdays are mandatory.” “Any objections?” No one spoke. Neither did I. That year, my stomach ulcer flared up three times. The worst time, I threw up blood in the middle of the night and took an Uber to the ER by myself. I lay in the ER all night and was at my desk promptly at 8:00 AM the next morning. When Mr. Vance saw me, he frowned. “Chloe, you don’t look too good.” I said, “It’s fine, I just didn’t sleep well.” He nodded. “Alright, you’re hosting today’s supplier meeting.” “Mr. Davis has some complaints. Go smooth things over.” Mr. Davis was the owner of another core supplier. What was his complaint? A rebate Mr. Vance had personally promised him last month hadn’t been paid out yet. Mr. Vance made that promise right to his face. But he never actually got it approved by finance. Now that Mr. Davis was knocking on our door, Mr. Vance sent me to “smooth things over.” I chased down finance, then legal, coordinating back and forth for two weeks. Finally, I fronted three thousand dollars of my own money to keep Mr. Davis appeased. When Mr. Vance found out, he patted me on the shoulder. “Chloe, you did the right thing.” “Don’t worry, the company will reimburse you for this.” That three thousand dollars was never reimbursed, right up until the day I left. 04 At the beginning of my sixth year, Mia arrived. Mr. Vance personally brought her to the department. “This is Mia. She’ll be working with us from now on.” “Chloe, show her the ropes.” Mia wore head-to-toe Chanel and teetered on four-inch heels. Her nails were impeccably manicured. She looked like she had never done a day of hard work in her life. She called me “Chloe.” On her first day, I asked her to organize the supplier files. She organized them for an hour, then asked, “Chloe, did you negotiate all these suppliers yourself?” I said, “Most of them, yes.” She went “Wow,” and added, “That’s impressive.” Then she stepped out to take a phone call. She was gone for two hours. When she came back, she said, “Chloe, I have some things to take care of this afternoon. I’m taking off.” It was Wednesday. 3:00 PM. Mr. Vance didn’t say a word. The second week, Mia started sitting in on supplier meetings with me. She played on her phone the entire time. Occasionally, she’d look up and ask, “What does that mean?” Mr. Sterling looked at her, then looked at me. After the meeting, he pulled me aside and asked, “Manager Hastings, who is this girl?” I said, “A new colleague.” Mr. Sterling scoffed. “I only deal with you.” I said, “Don’t worry, Mr. Sterling.” Little did I know, a month later, Mr. Vance would have Mia take over all my supplier accounts. 05 It was a Monday in early March. As soon as I got to the office, Mr. Vance called me into the conference room. “Chloe, you know the company has been restructuring lately.” “Corporate wants to optimize costs.” “You’ve worked hard for the company all these years.” He pushed the termination agreement toward me. Severance plus one month’s pay: $21,500. I stared at the number, suddenly remembering six years ago. Mr. Vance telling me, “Work hard, Chloe, and I won’t treat you unfairly.” Six years. Two thousand, one hundred and ninety days. Averaging twelve hours a day. Over two hundred business trips. Negotiated contracts totaling over a hundred million dollars. Now, converted into a payout of $21,500. I asked, “Mr. Vance, is this your decision, or corporate’s?” His face faltered for a second, then quickly recovered. “Corporate’s, of course.” “It’s a restructuring, my hands are tied.” “Chloe, don’t overthink it.” I nodded. “Okay.” Then I signed the agreement. Mr. Vance visibly sighed in relief. He probably thought I would cry, cause a scene, beg him. After all, he had manipulated me for six years; he should know exactly what kind of person I am. But what he didn’t know was… Three days ago, Mr. Sterling had called me. “Kid, I heard your company is trying to push you out?” “If they dare, I’m pulling my contract.” I said, “Mr. Sterling, don’t act impulsively.” He replied, “I’m not being impulsive; I’m dead serious.” “How much have you helped me over these six years?” “The payment terms, the quality issues, that logistics disaster last time…” “Did you ever not step up and take the heat for me?” “I, Sterling, cannot be a man without a conscience.” I said, “Mr. Sterling, wait for my word.” That night, I lay in bed thinking for a long time. Then, I texted the owners of four other core suppliers: “Gentlemen, if it’s convenient, would you like to get together next week?” 06 Mia came to see me once. It was the day after I signed the termination agreement. She was wearing a new Dior trench coat and holding a Starbucks cup. “Chloe, I heard you’re leaving?” I said, “Yeah.” She let out an exaggerated sigh. “What a shame.” “But don’t worry, Chloe, I’ll take good care of your suppliers.” She winked at me. “Mr. Vance said I’m in charge of everything on the supplier side from now on.” I looked at her face—that young, meticulously maintained face. She couldn’t be older than twenty-five. She didn’t know what it meant to work until dawn. She didn’t know what it meant to front your own money to clean up the company’s mess. She didn’t know what it meant to wait outside a supplier’s gate for three days. All she knew was that she had an uncle who was a Vice President. I smiled. “Mia, I have a piece of advice.” She raised an eyebrow. “What is it?” I said, “Suppliers aren’t just resources; they are relationships.” “Relationships aren’t something you can just transfer during a handover.” “You have to manage them yourself.” She froze for a second, then smiled. “Chloe, are you upset?” “I mean, I get it. Anyone would be upset in your shoes.” “But, what can you do, right?” “We all have to obey company decisions.” She finished her sentence, took a sip of her Starbucks, and walked away. I watched her back and said nothing. In three days, she would find out exactly what “relationships can’t just be transferred” meant. 07 On my last day, I treated my department colleagues to lunch. Mr. Vance didn’t show up. He said he was busy. During the meal, someone asked, “Chloe, what are your plans now?” I said, “I’m going to rest for a while.” “I’ve been too tired these past few years.” Everyone sighed. “Chloe, you were the backbone of our department.” “They went too far treating you like this.” “Sigh, what can you do? She has connections.” I raised my glass with a smile. “Thank you all for looking out for me these past few years.” “I hope our paths cross again.” As we were leaving, someone whispered to me, “Chloe, I heard Mia already started contacting suppliers.” “She called Mr. Sterling today to set up a meeting for next week.” I nodded. “Got it. Thanks.” That night, when I got home. I opened my phone, and Mr. Sterling’s message was already there: “Kid, that young girl named Mia called me.” “I hung up on her.” “When is that get-together you mentioned?” I replied, “Mr. Sterling, this Friday night. My treat.” Mr. Sterling sent an “OK” emoji. Immediately after, Mr. Davis, Mr. Jenkins, Mr. Carter… Four messages arrived almost simultaneously. “Manager Hastings, see you Friday.” 08 Friday night. I booked a private dining room at a high-end restaurant. There were five people sitting inside. Mr. Sterling, Mr. Davis, Mr. Jenkins, Mr. Carter, and Mr. Miller, who had just flown in from Seattle. They were the core suppliers I had maintained for six years. Together, they accounted for 80% of my former company’s procurement volume. Mr. Sterling spoke first: “Kid, before I came here today, that Mr. Vance from your company called me.” “Told me to come in for a meeting next week.” “I told him I didn’t have the time.” Mr. Davis chimed in, “He called me too. Said something about ‘handover procedures.’” “Handover what? Does he even know where my goods come from?” Mr. Jenkins scoffed. “In six years, how many times has he actually met me?” “Every time, it was Manager Hastings who liaised with us. When there were problems, Manager Hastings solved them.” “Now that she’s gone, he thinks he can just swoop in and pick the fruit?” “Not a chance.” I listened to them without interrupting. Only when they were all finished did I speak: “Gentlemen, thank you for all your support over the years.” “I invited you here today to let you know—” “I’ve resigned.” Mr. Sterling nodded. “We know. So?” I said, “So I wanted to ask… if I were to go to a different company…” “Would you still be willing to work with me?” The five of them exchanged a look. Then Mr. Sterling raised his glass. “Kid, why would you even ask that?” “Let me tell you the truth.” “For the past six years, my doing business with your company had nothing to do with their reputation.” “It was entirely out of respect for you, Chloe.” “Wherever you go, I go.” Mr. Davis raised his glass too. “Same here.” “Manager Hastings is reliable.” “Doing business with you gives me peace of mind.” We drank a lot that night. As we were leaving, all five bosses told me the exact same thing: “Once you’ve decided which company you’re joining, let us know.” I stood outside the restaurant, watching them leave. The wind was a bit chilly, but my heart was warm. Six years. I finally knew that my six years hadn’t been a waste. 09 The second week, Mia’s nightmare began. On Monday, she tried to schedule a meeting with Mr. Sterling. Mr. Sterling said, “Sorry, I don’t have time this week.” On Tuesday, she tried to set up a video call with Mr. Davis. Mr. Davis said, “Too busy right now. Maybe next time.” On Wednesday, she flew all the way to Seattle to meet Mr. Miller in person. Mr. Miller had his secretary entertain her for two hours; he never showed his face. On Thursday, a supply issue arose with Mr. Jenkins. A batch of raw materials didn’t meet quality standards and needed urgent coordination. Mia called Mr. Jenkins, and he said, “I only discuss this with Manager Hastings.” “Have her call me.” Mia was stunned. “Mr. Jenkins, Chloe has already resigned.” “I am now responsible for supplier relations.” Mr. Jenkins was silent for three seconds before saying: “Then figure it out yourselves.” “If the issue with this batch isn’t resolved, I can’t guarantee supply for next month either.” He hung up. Mia panicked. She went to Mr. Vance. Mr. Vance panicked even more. That batch from Mr. Jenkins was the core material for next month’s production schedule. If the supply stopped, the entire production line would have to shut down. Mr. Vance called Mr. Jenkins, but he didn’t answer. He had Mia try again, but still no answer. Mr. Vance started cursing. “Do these suppliers have any respect for us?” “We signed a contract, and they dare threaten us?” Mia said timidly, “Mr. Vance, should we… maybe ask Chloe?” Mr. Vance glared at her and said nothing.

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While scrolling through my phone on a long bus ride, I stumbled across a post that caught my eye. The poster wrote about how hard her life was growing up. Now, seeing her newborn daughter surrounded by the love of her parents and the doting affection of her grandparents, she felt a twinge of jealousy. She asked the internet for advice on how to adjust her mindset. Many people offered kind suggestions, saying it was likely postpartum depression and recommending she talk to her husband or take a vacation after her recovery. Amidst the well-meaning advice, one highly upvoted comment stood out like a sore thumb: [Just make your daughter live the exact same life you did.] [Otherwise, it’s not fair. You suffered so much, and she gets a better life without lifting a finger.] People in the replies were tearing her apart for the toxic advice. But the commenter doubled down: [That’s exactly what I did. I never got to wear new clothes when I was a kid, so I forbid my daughter from wearing new clothes.] [I never had enough to eat, so I trick my daughter into thinking we’re poor. I make her eat less to ‘save food.’] [After I started doing that, I instantly felt balanced.] The comments section was completely horrified. But I felt a sudden, bone-chilling cold spread through my body. Because the profile picture of the person leaving those comments was identical to my mother’s.

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I was set to marry into one of the most powerful families in the city, but my half-sister, the illegitimate child who’d always been a thorn in my side, was consumed by jealousy. The day before my lavish wedding, she drugged me. As she snuck into my wedding car, she sent her people to plunder my billion-dollar dowry, then grandly took my place, marrying into the prestigious Blackwood family. When I finally came to, I was furious. I found my half-sister, tied her up, and dragged her back. I eventually married into the Blackwood family as planned, only to be thrown into a beggar’s den by my husband a year later. His eyes were venomous, his voice cold as ice. “If your family’s funding wasn’t essential, you’d die a thousand deaths for humiliating Seraphina. Now that the Sterling Corporation has fallen, you’re worse than a dog.” My half-sister, Seraphina, stood nearby, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Sister, you humiliated me then; now you can pay your penance with the beggars. I’ve settled comfortably into the role of Mrs. Blackwood.” Overwhelmed by the humiliation, I bit my tongue and ended my life. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on my wedding day. … I slowly pushed myself up from the bed. It took me an hour to manage the pounding in my head before I opened the door. My mother, leaning on a maid, was just returning. The unshed tears in her eyes, remnants of regret, had barely dried when she looked up and saw me standing at the top of the stairs. She froze, utterly stunned. My father, frowning, was the first to react. “Willow, what are you doing here?” He pointed outside, his voice filled with alarm. “Then who was it that just got into the Blackwood family’s wedding car?” I clutched my chest, my face a picture of shock. “What? Someone already took my place in the wedding car? Last night, Seraphina said she’d miss me once she was married, so she lit some calming incense for me. I inhaled a couple of breaths and slept until just now.” The lively scene instantly fell silent. Everyone exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of confusion and suspicion. My mother staggered a few steps, nearly fainting, and immediately ordered the servants to seize Nanny Rose, who was trying to slip away in the crowd. “Aha, I knew it! During the send-off earlier, she clung to the bride’s hand, crying more sorrowfully than I, her own mother. I thought she was some good-for-nothing, but it turns out she’s truly the mother of that little beast!” My mother’s voice dripped with icy contempt. Nanny Rose knelt on the ground, her gaze darting nervously. She stammered, “Madam, I don’t understand what you’re saying. It’s Miss Willow who overslept and missed the auspicious hour. How can you blame my Seraphina?” Just as she finished speaking, the butler rushed over, out of breath. “Sir, Madam, the Reynolds family’s reception party has arrived. They’re waiting at the gate.” My mother’s face hardened. “Where is Seraphina? Go and bring her here immediately.” I lowered my head, hiding the cold smirk playing on my lips. Where else could she be? On Archer Blackwood’s bed, of course. During the wedding negotiations, Archer had insisted on a traditional Western wedding, claiming it honored ancestral customs. He’d even hired a renowned historian to oversee the entire event. The bride was to remain veiled throughout. By now, she had likely completed the ceremony and entered the bridal suite. A quick glance caught the triumphant gleam Nanny Rose couldn’t quite hide at the corner of her mouth, solidifying my conviction. This mother-daughter duo truly had it all planned out. Nanny Rose had been our housekeeper years ago, seducing my father and giving birth to Seraphina, securing a life of luxury. Now, Seraphina had drugged me, taken my place, and married into wealth, effectively sealing the deal. That left me with only one path: to take the wedding she’d rejected, marrying into the Reynolds family. The Reynolds family was a rising star in business over the past two years. While they lacked the deep roots of old money, their momentum was undeniable, with their presence felt across various emerging industries. Unfortunately, their patriarch was disabled. My father, with his sharp business acumen, had arranged Seraphina’s marriage to the Reynolds heir. If the Reynolds family flourished, Seraphina could enjoy the life of a wealthy socialite. If not, with the Sterling Corporation’s strong backing, she wouldn’t suffer. Yet, she failed to grasp my father’s good intentions. She’d pulled a switcheroo, forcing the marriage she found most despicable onto me. If I agreed, news of a Sterling heiress marrying a disabled man would spread like wildfire through high society that very night. The entire Sterling family would become the subject of ridicule. In my previous life, she’d used this very tactic to forever keep me beneath her heel. But back then, with my parents’ full support, I had made a scene at the wedding. The Blackwood family, still needing the Sterling Corporation’s assistance, had forcibly dragged Seraphina out of the bridal suite. I got my wish and became Mrs. Blackwood, and Archer treated me like a treasure. I hadn’t known then that this man, who seemed to pour his heart out to me, had already secretly conceived a child with Seraphina, working together to bring down the Sterling Corporation when the time was right. A maid’s startled gasp broke my reverie. “Madam, Miss Seraphina isn’t in her room! Her wedding dress and veil are still there, but all her dowry is gone!” “And… I found some things in Miss Seraphina’s room…” My father picked them up and his face turned to thunder. They were intimate photos of Seraphina and Archer Blackwood. He furiously flung the pictures at Nanny Rose’s face. “This is the wonderful daughter you’ve raised! She’s going to bring shame upon the entire Sterling Corporation!” 2 The butler, his brow furrowed with worry, spoke up. “Sir, the Reynolds family is pressing at the gate. What should we do?” My father’s face was grim. He slammed his fist on the table. “Contact the Blackwood family immediately. Quietly bind that wretched girl and send her to the Reynolds family. My Sterling Corporation’s marriage is not hers, a mere illegitimate child, to decide!” I tugged on my father’s sleeve, pinched my thigh hard, and tears streamed down my face. “Dad, let it go. Seraphina and Mr. Blackwood are clearly in love. They’ve already… well, and made a spectacle of the Sterling family at the wedding. I won’t marry such a man. Let Seraphina have him.” I wiped my eyes. “The Reynolds family is a valuable partner for us. In business, integrity is paramount, and I don’t want you to break your word, Dad. Your daughter is willing to marry into the Reynolds family.” My father looked at me, surprised and deeply moved. “Willow, you are the Sterling heiress. In this entire circle, only the Blackwood family is barely worthy of you. Marrying into the Reynolds family would be a true sacrifice for you, especially since Mr. Reynolds is…” He swallowed the rest of his words, his gaze filled with heartache. I smiled, picking up where he left off. “Dad, the Reynolds family ranked only ten spots behind the Blackwood family on Forbes last year. Think of how long the Blackwood family has been established compared to the Reynolds family’s rapid rise. While Mr. Reynolds is disabled, his reproductive health is fine, and he’s a business genius. With me by his side and the Sterling Corporation’s support, the Reynolds family’s future is boundless.” A conniving half-sister, greedy for wealth and snatching a wedding, versus a dignified heiress, composed in crisis, willing to marry for the sake of family honor. The contrast was stark, the difference undeniable. Many in the room looked at me with approval, their hearts aching for my predicament, and their contempt for Seraphina’s actions grew. My mother’s heart shattered into a million pieces, and she held me tightly in her embrace. My father gritted his teeth, seething. “Even so, my daughter, Willow Sterling, is not someone the Blackwood family can disrespect. Willow, rest assured, the Blackwood family has wronged you. You are right not to marry Archer. I will make sure they pay for this, no matter what.” We arrived at the Blackwood estate to find the newlyweds had already entered the bridal suite, but the banquet was still in full swing. Everyone stared in disbelief as we burst in, our presence a storm brewing. “Isn’t that Miss Willow Sterling, the Sterling heiress? She’s supposed to be the bride today, why is she here?” “No, that’s not right. The bride was escorted to the bridal suite half an hour ago. If it’s not her, then who is the bride?” My mother scoffed. “I apologize for the spectacle, everyone. The woman who just entered was also a Sterling daughter, but a common, illegitimate child who stole her sister’s wedding.” A hush fell over the room, then a collective gasp of shock. Archer Blackwood rushed in from outside, his face ashen, and interrupted. “Willow, don’t cause a scene. How can you blame Seraphina for this? Your figures are similar, and the veils were identical. You only have yourself to blame for oversleeping and missing the auspicious hour; that’s why I brought the wrong person.” “I was drunk earlier and mistook Seraphina for you in the bridal suite. As a man, I must take responsibility for Seraphina.” “Bringing people here now is just to switch places, isn’t it? I know you love me deeply, and you’d die without me. So, here’s what we’ll do: Seraphina and I will register our marriage, but I’ll only choose an heir from the children you bear for me. You might not have a title, but the entire Blackwood estate will belong to our children. This way, it won’t disrupt our families’ cooperation.” 3 The absurdity of it all made me want to laugh. Marrying Seraphina and then expecting me to be his mistress, with my son as an illegitimate child? The struggling Blackwood family, on the brink of collapse, would have vanished if not for the long-standing engagement and the Sterling Corporation’s support. And he, the shameless wretch, wanted the blessing of two women and the Sterling Corporation’s resources? My father, equally outraged, burst into a hollow laugh. “The Blackwood family certainly has some nerve! A few good years and you’ve forgotten the despair of being on the verge of bankruptcy? If that’s the case, I don’t mind helping you recall it.” The Blackwood matriarch, finally snapping out of her daze, rushed forward. “Mr. Sterling, what on earth is going on?” My mother pulled a stack of scandalous photos from her bag and tossed them onto the table. “Mrs. Blackwood, what do you think? If your esteemed son prefers an illegitimate child, why go through such lengths to humiliate my daughter? Our Sterling Corporation will not accept such a shameless daughter. My husband will return home and immediately terminate all cooperation between our families. The Sterling and Blackwood families are officially done.” Without the Sterling Corporation’s investment, the Blackwood family would be a mere shell, burdened with debt. The Blackwood matriarch clutched her chest, her face turning ashen, and repeatedly questioned Archer. “Tell me, what have you done?” Before Archer could speak, Seraphina burst out of the bridal suite, clad in a crimson silk robe. She fell to her knees before me, weeping piteously. “Sister, it’s all my fault. I was overcome with emotion and acted foolishly. But Archer and I are already married. If you keep causing a scene, you’ll only shame the Sterling family! Even if you don’t care about me, don’t you care about the Sterling family’s reputation?” To brand her own vulgar shamelessness as “overcome with emotion,” and my quest for justice as “disregarding family honor”—she truly had no shame. I scoffed. “So, you’re saying you drugged me, stole my wedding, entered my bridal suite, and my simply asking questions is what brings shame upon the Sterling family?” I deliberately raised my voice, airing all her dirty laundry. “If you truly loved Mr. Blackwood, why didn’t you tell me sooner? I wasn’t dead set on Archer. Why wait until our wedding day to commit such a despicable act? Who is truly trampling the Sterling family’s reputation underfoot? Or do you have no regard for the Sterling family at all, and just want to steal everything that belongs to me?” Seraphina’s face went pale, her eyes darting nervously. “I… I didn’t. It’s because I truly love Mr. Blackwood.” Everyone present was a seasoned socialite; her sordid intentions were crystal clear. “Using such vile tactics and then claiming ‘true love’ as an excuse? An illegitimate child, she doesn’t even know her place.” “If that were my daughter, I’d drag her home and beat her to death. To stoop to stealing her sister’s fiancé… who knows what other harm she’ll bring to the entire family later on.” Some even turned their accusations directly at Archer Blackwood. “Mr. Blackwood’s behavior is equally repulsive. Since he’s already entered the bridal suite with a shameless illegitimate child, he’s now shamelessly trying to force the legitimate heiress into being his mistress. Isn’t it just because he can’t bear to lose the heiress’s family resources? He wants to have his cake and eat it too, treating the heiress and the Sterling family like fools. I can barely bring myself to repeat the things he said.” The Blackwood matriarch, utterly disgraced, trembled with rage. She slapped Archer across the face. “You defiant son! Get down on your knees immediately and apologize to your future in-laws, and promise to marry Willow right away!” She took a few steps towards me, reaching for my hand, but I subtly evaded her. Her face stiffened for a moment, then instantly softened with flattery. “Willow, you’ve been wronged. Archer will agree to whatever you want, I promise you. This kind of thing will never happen again.” Archer clutched his face, his eyes burning with resentment, as if I had ruined his plans. He seemed utterly oblivious that I was the biggest victim of this whole sordid affair. “Mother, I only love Seraphina; I won’t marry anyone else. Willow Sterling is arrogant and overbearing, just a spoiled brat relying on the Sterling family’s influence. If I marry her, the entire Blackwood family will suffer. The position of Mrs. Blackwood can only be Seraphina’s.” “If she’s smart, out of respect for Mr. Sterling, I’ll give her a child. But I’ll bring the child to live with me and have Seraphina raise it. If she’s not smart, she can wait to be scorned and despised by everyone in the city. Who would ever marry a woman rejected by the Blackwood family?”

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On New Year’s Eve, the youngest son of our next-door neighbor was trapped inside their apartment, wailing uncontrollably. Relying on his decades of experience as a locksmith, my dad picked the lock in five seconds. But what greeted us inside wasn’t a crying child—it was a tape recorder. Right then, the neighbor, Mrs. Higgins, blocked our exit with a crowd of people. “I knew a little bait operation would lure the suspect out!” “Picking a lock that fast, you’ve clearly done this plenty of times! I bet you’re the one who’s been stealing everything in our building!” I tried to explain nicely that my dad used to be a professional locksmith. And that we only picked the lock today to save her grandson. But Mrs. Higgins wouldn’t let it go. “Did I ask you to save him? Who knows what you were really planning to do in my apartment?” “If you don’t pay for my broken lock and all the items missing from my home, you’re not leaving here today!” My dad stopped me from arguing back, swallowing his pride and the injustice. A few days later, Mrs. Higgins’ grandson was playing around and climbed into a safe. He was trapped and suffocating. Mrs. Higgins came looking for us again, but my dad just looked at her with helplessness. “Another bait operation?” “Stop testing me. To put the neighbors at ease, I threw all my tools away days ago.” …… “Waaah, waaah.” “Waaah, help…” Intermittent sobbing came from the apartment next door. My dad stopped in his tracks, frowning deeply. “Is that kid locked in his room again? Why aren’t the adults doing anything?” My mom wiped her hands on her apron, bringing dishes out from the kitchen. “I just saw Mrs. Higgins head out. She’ll probably be back soon, let’s not worry about it.” I looked at the lavish dinner spread on the table, my mouth watering. I chimed in to support my mom. “Yeah, that kid is a menace. He locks doors all the time. It’s not the first or second time.” “He’s probably just messing with people again.” Mrs. Higgins’ precious grandson, Leo, was a notorious troublemaker. His favorite game was locking doors on purpose to make the adults panic outside. I popped a piece of braised pork into my mouth, closing my eyes in bliss. “Besides, Dad, you’re too nice. You always unlock their doors for free, and you do it so fast. Didn’t you see the weird look Mrs. Higgins gave you last time?” “If you ask me, you should stay out of this mess so you don’t get dragged into their drama.” My dad sighed. He picked up his glass of whiskey and took a sip in silence. But ten minutes passed, and not only did no one return next door, the crying only got louder. My dad finally couldn’t take it anymore and stood up abruptly. “No, I have to go check.” My mom nodded too, helping him fetch his toolbox from the utility closet. “Yeah, better safe than sorry.” “It’s just a little effort. If something really happened to that kid, we wouldn’t be able to live with ourselves.” I shook my head helplessly. Without saying anything else, I followed them out. My parents were kind-hearted people. Even though Leo played this trick all the time. Given a second chance, they would still choose to help. If I didn’t let them go check it out, they wouldn’t be able to eat this New Year’s Eve dinner in peace anyway. Stepping outside, the hallway was empty. Leo’s cries sounded especially piercing. I couldn’t help but feel suspicious. “With so many families here, we can’t be the only ones hearing him cry. Why isn’t anyone else out here?” My dad, busy rummaging for his tools, chuckled. “It means everyone trusts me. They know I’ll come out and help.” My mom, holding the flashlight, exchanged a look with me. We both saw each other’s mouths twitch. The faint click of the lock picking echoed in the silent hallway. A growing sense of unease rose in my chest. Was it a bit too quiet? The moment the door swung open, my anxiety peaked. Behind the door, there was no crying Leo. It was a black tape recorder! In that exact second, the main hallway lights flared on. A crowd of people surged down from the upper floors, holding up their phones. Leading the pack was our neighbor, Mrs. Higgins. And in her arms was Leo. Mrs. Higgins pointed a finger at my dad, her voice shrill with excitement. “See? I told you a bait operation would work! Caught you red-handed!” “David Carter is a thief! He picked my lock when he thought I wasn’t home! All the thefts in this building are definitely his doing!” My dad’s face instantly turned beet red, and he frantically tried to explain. “I heard Leo crying inside! I was afraid he was in danger, that’s why I picked the lock to check!” Mrs. Higgins refused to back down. “You think you’re justified in picking my lock?!” “You did it so fast and smoothly! Who knows what kind of shady business you get up to normally!” I was instantly furious. “Mrs. Higgins, you’re out of line! What do you mean ‘bait operation’? Putting a tape recorder in there to trick us? What do you take us for?” I wanted to keep arguing, but my mom pulled me back. She let out a dry laugh, trying to de-escalate the situation. “Mrs. Higgins, it’s true David shouldn’t have suddenly picked your lock today.” “But we were genuinely worried Leo might be in danger.” “After all, Leo has a history of locking doors to cause trouble, and you’ve asked David to unlock them several times before.” “We’ve been neighbors for so many years, don’t you know David’s character by now? How could he possibly steal anything?” My mom tried to reason with her, appealing to emotion. She genuinely thought Mrs. Higgins just misunderstood and wanted to clear the air. But Mrs. Higgins scoffed coldly, remaining unyielding. “Since you know my Leo likes to play with locks, you shouldn’t have been so nosy today!” “I didn’t ask for your help, why are you getting involved?” “I think you’re just using this as an excuse to cover up the fact that you wanted to break in and steal!” Arguing with her was like talking to a brick wall! She was a complete ingrate! Furious, I turned to the other neighbors in the hallway. “Leo locks doors and causes trouble all the time. My dad is always on call for them, and he never charges a dime! Whenever anyone here needs a lock picked, he never refuses.” “My dad’s character is obvious to everyone. Please, be the judges here!” The neighbors Mrs. Higgins had gathered looked at each other, whispering among themselves. “Yeah, David does pick locks for free around here.” “He’s a nice guy too, doesn’t seem like the type to do something like this…” My dad breathed a sigh of relief, his eyes red. “Thank you everyone, thank you…” Seeing the tide turning against her, Mrs. Higgins immediately countered. “Picking a lock costs next to nothing anyway! Offering free services is probably just a front to gather information, scope out our homes, and prepare for robberies!” “We’ve lost a lot of things over the past few months. The value of those things far outweighs a few lock-picking fees. Don’t let this little girl twist the narrative!” As soon as she said that, the way the neighbors looked at my dad changed instantly. Human nature is like that. Small favors are easily forgotten. But when personal interests are threatened, it’s a completely different story. “Now that I think about it, that seems true. The day David helped me pick my lock, he kept chatting with me. Was he trying to find out when nobody would be home?” “Yes, exactly! Last time I invited David in for tea, we happened to talk about the porcelain collection in my house. A few days later, some pieces went missing!” They got more and more worked up. Their voices grew so confident, it was as if they had seen my dad stealing with their own eyes. I watched this scene unfold in absolute disbelief, feeling sick to my stomach. My dad always thought of others and was willing to help. Whenever anyone needed a hand, he was always the first to run over. I never expected these people to blindly believe Mrs. Higgins’ one-sided accusations! My dad’s face looked just as terrible. Mrs. Higgins’ shrewd eyes narrowed. She pulled out her phone and tapped on it. Finally, she shoved the screen in my face. “This is a list of all the items everyone has lost recently, along with the total value.” “David, if you have any shame left, pay up as soon as possible.” I glanced at the list and exploded. Five electric scooters, three antique vases, one bicycle… Total amount: $50,000. “Mrs. Higgins, are you trying to stock a store using my family?! You’re even pinning the electric scooters on my dad?” “And the toy Transformers? A children’s bike? I clearly saw your grandson break those and throw them in the apartment complex flowerbed last week! Don’t you feel ridiculous listing them here?” Mrs. Higgins showed not an ounce of guilt upon being exposed; instead, she acted even more self-righteous. “Who can say for sure?” “Why did Leo’s toys disappear after he threw them in the flowerbed? I bet your family stole them!” I laughed out of sheer exasperation. “The recycling collectors took them, obviously! What would I want with a pile of broken toys?” Just then, my dad suddenly stepped forward. Seeing his tense expression, I couldn’t help but feel worried. “Dad.” My dad gave me a reassuring look. Then, looking deeply disappointed, he scanned the crowd around us. “Neighbors, do you really believe that I, David Carter, am a thief? Do you want me to pay this money?” A flash of joy crossed Mrs. Higgins’ face. She knew my dad was soft-spoken and easy to push around. She figured she had this in the bag. The crowd began chiming in, trying to persuade him. “David, as long as you admit your mistake and change your ways, everyone will forgive you.” “Yeah, just pay the money and we’re still good buddies.” They talked over each other, spit flying, all eager to get a piece of the compensation. Looking at the greedy, hypocritical faces of our neighbors, the last bit of light in my dad’s eyes completely died. He grabbed my mom and me, pulled us inside, and slammed the door shut heavily. Leaving behind only one sentence: “If you want compensation, show me the evidence.” “I, David Carter, will die before I confess to something I didn’t do!” The food on the table was completely cold. My dad silently reheated the dishes and served rice for me and my mom. I was afraid he was heartbroken, hesitating to speak. To my surprise, my dad recovered faster than we did. He held our hands, his eyes resolute. “No one gets to bully my family.” “Neighbors like this aren’t worth knowing.” The people outside refused to leave at first; banging and foul language drifted in occasionally. Inside, our family was entirely unfazed, continuing to enjoy our New Year’s Eve dinner. I thought giving them the cold shoulder would solve the problem. I never expected to be woken up early the next morning by a continuous series of jarring noises. Loud bang, bang, bang sounds were hitting the front door, shaking the entire apartment. I fought through my grogginess, opened the door, and instantly felt a dull pain in my calf. “Ouch!” It was Leo. He was holding a toy shotgun, repeatedly shooting at me. “Bad woman, I’ll kill you!” The front door was covered in scratch marks from his toy knife. The walls were scribbled all over with colorful markers. “What are you doing, you brat?!” My mom rushed over, furious. Leo made a face and ran back into his apartment. Mrs. Higgins’ arrogant voice drifted out. “If you don’t pay up for stealing our things, I’ll just let Leo get payback! Let’s see how long you can last!” It was the New Year, and our doorway was covered in garish scribbles. Even the holiday banners were defaced with profanities. My mom and I were absolutely furious. We immediately contacted the HOA. But the person on the line brushed us off dismissively. “Oh, is that so? Well, you shouldn’t have refused to pay them. Serves you right.” Then, they hung up, and we couldn’t get through again. By the afternoon, our water main was shut off, and our electricity meter was pulled. I went downstairs to fix them, but half an hour later, it happened again. It was the middle of winter. One minute my parents and I were sweating profusely from rushing around, the next we were shivering from the cold with no power. Finally, we were too exhausted and out of breath to keep running up and down. “This is outrageous!” My dad slammed his fist on the table in anger. My voice was hoarse as I rubbed his back to calm him down. “We’re going to the police tomorrow! I refuse to believe they can just do whatever they want!” The next day, as soon as we stepped outside, the usually friendly elderly neighbors avoided me like the plague. As soon as I walked far enough away, they gathered together to gossip. “The old man is a thief, I bet the young one is no good either.” “What’s there to be afraid of? If we all gang up on them, they’ll have to pay up eventually!” I clenched my fists tightly. Mr. Davis, an empty-nester whose son rarely visited. My dad was the only one who checked on him regularly, even buying him groceries and meat to supplement his meals. Mrs. Miller, who had bad legs. When she fell last time, it was my dad who carried her on his back all the way to the hospital. Filled with righteous anger, I went to the police station to file a report. To my surprise, I ran into Mrs. Higgins. Seeing me, she flashed a triumphant smile. She pointed at me and complained to the officer. “That’s her! They stole from us and refuse to pay!” “I even have a video of her dad picking our lock, that’s proof right there!” The officer gave me a look of contempt. I cursed internally and quickly tried to explain. “That was because my dad thought someone was in danger! He thought her grandson was trapped inside!” “Officer, my dad is not a thief! They’re the ones pulling our electricity meter without any proof! Why is that allowed?!” Mrs. Higgins crossed her arms, looking like she had anticipated this. Before I could finish, two women from the HOA walked out. “No one pulled your electricity meter. That never happened!” “Your dad was caught red-handed picking the lock and still refuses to admit it. The police aren’t blind!” With them muddying the waters, my plan to involve the police completely failed. The police promised they would continue investigating the thefts. But regarding my complaint, they brushed it off as a “neighbor dispute” and told us to mediate it privately. I returned home empty-handed. Facing my parents’ expectant looks, I shook my head bitterly. “It didn’t work. The police didn’t believe me.” After that, Mrs. Higgins and her family ramped up their harassment. Playing loud music in the middle of the night, making it impossible to sleep. Slamming doors and throwing things around during the day, giving me a splitting headache. A few days later, I got a call from my company. “Maya, I’m sorry, but regarding your return to work after the holidays… the company has decided to put it on hold.” My intuition told me this was definitely connected. “Why? Didn’t we agree on just a seven-day suspension?” The voice on the other end remained flat but carried a hint of disdain. “Behavioral issues. Are you really not aware?” After asking around, I found out that Mrs. Higgins had taken the video of my dad to my office and caused a huge scene, bringing a lot of negative attention. This led upper management to suspend me indefinitely. The tension and suppression I had been feeling for days finally broke me. My mom hugged me, crying. My dad looked exhausted, his face full of guilt. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault. Why don’t we just…” I wiped my tears fiercely and cut him off. “No! We will absolutely not bow down to them!” That day, our entire family was enveloped in gloom. But next door, Mrs. Higgins’ family was having a grand old time. Leo’s parents had come back from working out of town, having made some money, and brought back a massive safe. Mrs. Higgins had been bragging about it outside all morning. “Our family is destined for wealth! When you make money, you have to hide it in a safe, so thieves don’t get any ideas!” They made a racket celebrating all day. Until the evening, when a commotion broke out. “Leo is missing!” “He was just in his room, where did he go?” Our family was used to their drama, until another scream echoed from next door. “Leo, don’t scare Mommy! Why did you crawl into the safe?!” Mrs. Higgins, who prized her grandson above all else, was trembling as she spoke. “It’s locked from the inside, we can’t get it open!” “Call 911! Hurry, call the police!”

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BANG! A massive jolt rocked my car. A heavily modified truck had aggressively cut across my lane and smashed right into my front fender. Before I could even unbuckle my seatbelt, a burly, aggressive-looking man hopped out of the truck and stormed over, pointing a thick finger at my windshield. “You did that on purpose to pull an insurance scam, didn’t you?! You had a whole wide lane, but you just had to swerve into me!” He finished shouting, then looked me up and down with a sleazy, contemptuous smirk. “I’ve seen plenty of women like you. You see a guy driving an expensive rig, and you deliberately bump into it.” “But you know what? You’re pretty cute. Give me five hundred bucks and spend the night with me, and we’ll keep the insurance companies out of this.” I didn’t say a word. I simply reached into my backseat, grabbed my police uniform jacket, slipped it on, and clipped my body cam to the center of my chest. I stepped out of the car. “Repeat what you just said.” …… “I am a police officer assigned to the traffic division. This accident is entirely your fault. If you want to settle this privately, you’re paying for my repairs.” “If you have a problem with that, we can call 911 right now.” The big guy let out a loud, mocking snort. “You? A cop? Do I look like an idiot?” I didn’t argue. I just put on the jacket. The moment I walked closer, panic visibly flashed across his face. His rat-like eyes darted up and down my uniform, finally locking onto the empty velcro patch above my pocket where my badge should be. He let out a wide, ugly grin. “Well, look at that, sweetheart! That’s a mighty fresh-looking uniform. Must’ve cost you a pretty penny online. You don’t even have a badge on it, and you’re out here playing dress-up!” “I gotta hand it to you, going this far just to pull a fender-bender scam.” I looked down. Crap. I had just washed the uniform jacket yesterday and left my metal badge pinned to my other shirt at home. “You think Rick Benson was born yesterday? If you’re really a cop, I’ll get on my knees, bow three times, and call you my fairy godmother!” I actually laughed out loud. I tapped the blinking light on my body cam. “Why don’t you repeat that threat for the camera?” A few bystanders who had gathered around started whispering. “Hey man… that jacket looks legit.” “Yeah, the body cam looks real, too.” Rick tried to put on a brave face, but the panic in his eyes was impossible to hide now. He turned around and quickly made a phone call. A minute later, he marched back over to me. “You just wait. I’ve called the police. We’ll see if you’re a real cop when they get here.” I checked the time. I quickly texted a colleague who was patrolling a few blocks away, asking him to cover for me for a bit. With that done, I crossed my arms and waited calmly. Less than ten minutes later, a civilian sedan pulled up right in front of us. A man stepped out, wearing a police traffic uniform. I frowned. Officers responding to a 911 call don’t show up in personal vehicles. “Who called it in?” the man asked. “Luke! Perfect timing, man. My truck got hit by this crazy chick, and now she’s claiming to be a cop!” Rick puffed out his chest, looking incredibly smug. It was blatantly obvious he and “Luke” knew each other. The cop named Luke frowned and walked over to me. I didn’t recognize him at all. I thought he would at least recognize the authentic department jacket I was wearing. Instead, the first words out of his mouth were an accusation. “Are you aware that impersonating a police officer is a felony?” Hearing that, whatever fear Rick had vanished completely. He stuck his gut out, full of confidence. “I knew it! I’ve never seen a female cop looking like a model anyway.” The crowd of onlookers immediately perked up. “Whoa, impersonating a cop? This girl’s got some nerve.” “This isn’t just a traffic ticket anymore. She’s gonna be spending Christmas behind bars!” Seeing the situation escalating, I immediately reached into my pocket for my police ID wallet. “It’s normal that you don’t know me. There are over a hundred officers in the precinct. But you should recognize a valid ID.” Before Luke could even reach for it, Rick snatched the ID wallet right out of my hand and stuffed it into his pocket. His face twisted into an ugly snarl as he shouted to the crowd. “This is evidence! Having a fake ID makes your crime even worse!” I furrowed my brows. “What are you talking about? Give me my ID back right now!” I reached out to grab it, but I was no match for a large man’s brute strength. In the scuffle, my ID wallet slipped from his hands and fell over the railing into the storm drain gutter below. It was swept away by the running water. My mind went blank. Do you have any idea how much paperwork it takes to replace a lost police ID?! Instantly, my blood began to boil. Rick was still pointing his sausage-like fingers at me. “Everybody, you saw that! She just destroyed the evidence! I’m gonna need you all as witnesses!” A couple of middle-aged guys in the crowd, eager for drama, stepped up. “I saw it! She forged an ID and then destroyed the evidence.” “I’m a witness too! Don’t worry, buddy, I’ll say exactly that when we give our statements at the station.” Rick was beaming with triumph. “Well, this isn’t a five-hundred-dollar problem anymore. It’s gonna take at least this much to make me drop the charges.” He held up five fingers. Then he turned to the crowd. “Don’t worry folks, anyone who vouches for me gets a cut!” The fire in my chest flared into an inferno. I glared at Luke. “Are you really going to stand there in uniform and let him extort money from a civilian?” A brief flash of guilt crossed Luke’s face. He stammered slightly. “Mediation is a private civil matter. We try not to interfere.” Seeing them work together like a pack of wolves, I knew Luke had no intention of upholding the law. The sun was setting, and the crowd was only getting bigger. I was about to say something when my phone rang. Captain Miller’s booming voice came through the speaker. “Chloe! Main Street is a parking lot right now! Where are you? You have ten minutes to get to your post!” “Captain, I’m dealing with a situation here, give me another half—” “Hey, don’t merge there!—Beep. Beep.” He had hung up. I looked up to see Rick leaning against his truck, casually scrolling through TikTok on his phone. He clearly planned to drag this out all night to break me. I forced down my anger. When you run into a scammer like this, sometimes it’s best to cut your losses. “Look, no one wants to be in an accident. How about this: we’ll call it 50/50 liability, and I won’t ask you for repair money either.” “I have urgent business I need to attend to.” Rick rolled his eyes, his thick lips flapping as spit flew onto my face. “Are you kidding me? 50/50?” “Do you know how much I put into this truck? Sixty grand!” “How much could you even get for that beat-up piece-of-trash Volkswagen of yours?” He shot a look at Luke. Luke immediately pulled out an accident citation pad. “Ms. Davis, you are completely at fault for this collision. Sign the citation.” My eyes turned bloodshot. I slapped the citation pad right out of his hand. Luke frowned deeply. “Ms. Davis, are you resisting a lawful order?” I was shaking with anger. I pointed to the traffic camera mounted on the street light above us. “That camera clearly caught Rick aggressively cutting the lane line and ramming my car. On what planet am I entirely at fault?” Luke chuckled like I had just told a joke. He pointed to the “Student Driver” magnet on the back of my car. “You’re a rookie, and a female driver. Rick is a man with twenty years of driving experience. You really think he hit you?” “I process ten of these accidents a day. It’s always the female driver’s fault!” His words seemed to resonate with the crowd. The murmurs grew louder. “Yeah, I hate women drivers. They put on their right blinker and turn left.” “That guy looks like a solid driver. The girl was probably swerving. Definitely her fault.” “A girl side-swiped me yesterday. She apologized, so I just made her pay me a hundred bucks and let it go.” I smiled a bitter smile. So that was it. It had nothing to do with facts. My gender was my original sin. I didn’t argue. I just stared at the badge number on Luke’s chest. CSO-365898. “Community Service Officer. You’re unsworn, aren’t you? Do you know that an unsworn officer cannot issue citations or assign liability without a sworn field training officer present?” “Do you even know basic protocol?” My voice wasn’t loud, but it was firm and carried clearly to everyone in the crowd. “Also, that phone call Rick made earlier? He called your personal cell phone, didn’t he?” I checked my watch. 5:30 PM. “It’s rush hour. Every officer in the city is at their assigned post. Do you know the penalty for abandoning your post without dispatch authorization?” I pointed to the blinking red light on my body cam. “Everything you’ve done here is recorded in crystal clear HD. You might want to think very carefully about the consequences of covering for him!” With every word I spoke, the color drained from Luke’s face. He looked at me, then at Rick, clearly calculating who he had messed with. Seeing the situation turning south, Rick lunged forward, grabbed my body cam, and hurled it onto the pavement. CRACK! The camera shattered into pieces. Rick was panting heavily, the fat on his face trembling. “You fake cop! You dare threaten a real officer?! Recording us without permission is illegal!” Before I could react, he grabbed my wrist, trying to force a pen into my hand to sign the citation. Caught off guard, I was thrown off balance and fell hard onto the asphalt. A sharp, stinging pain shot through my knee. I gasped for air. A few men in the crowd actually cheered, which only fueled Rick’s arrogance. Seeing things spiraling out of control, I pulled out my phone to dial 911. But the moment it was out of my pocket, Rick shoved me again. My phone hit the ground and was immediately kicked away by the chaotic crowd. By the time I found it, the screen was a shattered spiderweb, completely dead. A kindly older woman couldn’t watch anymore. “Honey, why are you fighting them? Just pay the man and settle it later. Don’t get yourself hurt.” I looked at the chaos around me, feeling like I was living in the twilight zone. It’s 2026. Everyone has a smartphone. How is a police officer getting mobbed like this on a public street? The intersection was completely gridlocked because of this minor fender-bender. Car horns blared endlessly, mixing with the curses of angry commuters. The situation had gone way beyond my control. In a flash of realization, I remembered the police radio in my car. I scrambled back into the driver’s seat. The radio was sitting there, the green signal light blinking. That small radio suddenly felt like a lifeline. After contacting dispatch, I rolled up the windows and locked the doors. But Rick wasn’t going to let me sit in peace. He pounded on my window. He gestured for me to get out. I rolled the window down an inch. “Since we can’t agree, we’ll wait. I’ve already called for backup.” Then I rolled it up and locked the car again.

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After the car accident, my sister Hallie came back… different. It wasn’t just the physical recovery; her entire personality had shifted, sharpening into something frantic and desperate. Her singular obsession? Stopping my wedding to Harrison Whitmore. She claimed she had come back from the future. A rebirth. According to her, Harrison’s true soulmate wasn’t me. It was my best friend, Vanessa. Hallie swore that three years into our marriage, Harrison would destroy me to force a divorce. He would torture me until I wished for death, all to clear the path for Vanessa. She told me Mom would die of a broken heart, Dad would be beaten crippled by Harrison’s security detail trying to protect me, and Hallie herself would die in a car crash orchestrated by the two of them. Naturally, I didn’t believe a word of it. It sounded like the hallucinations of a traumatic brain injury. Vanessa had just returned from Europe. She and Harrison had zero history. How could she be the love of his life? Until the fire at the bridal boutique. When the flames roared to life, Harrison didn’t look for me. He abandoned me to save Vanessa. In that moment of searing heat and betrayal, I realized Hallie wasn’t crazy. She was right. So, to give Harrison and Vanessa the happy ending they deserved, I decided to give them exactly what they wanted. I chose to run. Later, the tabloids would report that the golden boy of the New York elite, desperate for his fiancée’s forgiveness, spent an entire night on his knees in the pouring rain, begging until he collapsed. 1 The day of the final fitting, Hallie escaped from the hospital. She burst into the boutique still wrapped in gauze, smelling of antiseptic and desperation. “Meredith, you cannot marry Harrison!” She gripped my arm, her fingers digging into my flesh with bruising force. “Mer, please. You have to believe me. I’ve lived this already. He doesn’t love you. He loves Vanessa. Marrying you is just a game to make her jealous.” “Three years from now,” she rushed on, her voice cracking, “he’ll make your life a living hell. Mom ends up in the hospital and never comes out. Dad gets beaten by his thugs until he can’t walk. And me… they kill me, Mer. Harrison and Vanessa kill me.” She was practically growling, tears streaming down her pale face. My instinct was to call the nurses. Rebirth? Time travel? It was impossible. And the idea of Harrison loving Vanessa was laughable. They didn’t even know each other. Vanessa and I had been inseparable since prep school, but she’d been in Paris for years. She only came back to be my Maid of Honor. In five years, I’d never seen them in the same room. “Hallie, honey, you hit your head hard. You’re confused.” I tried to be gentle, using my soothing big-sister voice. “Let’s get you back to bed.” She let go of my arm, defeated. Huge, heavy tears rolled down her cheeks. “I can’t let you walk into that fire again, Meredith.” She was my little sister. Even if she sounded delusional, I had to listen. “Okay,” I said softly. “You say you’re from the future. Prove it.” Hallie’s expression darkened. She looked at the clock. “At five o’clock today, this building will catch fire. Harrison will panic. And he won’t save you. He’ll leave you to burn so he can save Vanessa.” My breath hitched. I opened my mouth to argue, but a voice cut through the tension. “Meredith!” It was Vanessa. She glided across the room and wrapped me in a hug that smelled of expensive perfume and betrayal. 2 Hallie looked terrified of Vanessa. The moment my best friend appeared, the color drained from my sister’s face. “Are you okay?” I asked Hallie, worried. “I… I feel dizzy,” she stammered, avoiding Vanessa’s gaze. “Can you call me an Uber? I need to go back to the hospital.” “Of course.” I arranged the ride. As soon as Hallie was gone, Vanessa turned to me with that dazzling, practiced smile. “God, Meredith. I can’t believe you’re getting married. Congratulations. You really found a keeper. He adores you.” “What about you?” I asked, deflecting. “All that time in Paris, no French lover?” Vanessa laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. “Me? No. I’m destined to be alone. I don’t think anyone is ever going to love me like that.” Before I could offer sympathy, Harrison emerged from the waiting area. “Meredith, darling, how’s the dress coming along?” He looked every inch the American aristocrat. Custom suit, perfect hair, that easy confidence that comes from generations of wealth. The Whitmores were old money—Standard Oil money. But Harrison had always seemed different from the other trust-fund brats. He didn’t have the wandering eye. We were love at first sight. Or so I thought. For five years, he had treated me like a queen. The entire social circuit whispered that Harrison Whitmore was completely whipped. It took a month for me to say yes to his proposal. When I finally did, he cried. He actually wept and swore he’d spend his life making me happy. Looking at him now, standing there with that warm, melting gaze, I couldn’t reconcile him with the monster Hallie described. “I haven’t put it on yet,” I said. “Go on, then,” he urged, kissing my cheek. “I can’t wait to see you. You’re going to be breathtaking.” He was being extra affectionate today. Almost performative. I glanced at Vanessa. She was looking at the floor, silent. Harrison barely acknowledged her. Was I imagining things? Paranoia is contagious. “Go,” Vanessa urged. “We’re dying to see it.” I went into the dressing room. But as I pulled the heavy silk curtain closed, I left a sliver open. I watched them. Harrison was on his phone. Vanessa was staring at a wall. They didn’t speak. They didn’t touch. See? I told myself. Hallie is sick. I struggled into the gown. It was a complex masterpiece of lace and tulle, heavy as a suit of armor. Just as I fastened the last hook, I smelled it. Smoke. I threw open the curtain. The showroom was filling with thick, gray clouds. I checked my watch. Five o’clock exactly. A cold dread pooled in my stomach, colder than the heat rising around me. I couldn’t see anything. “Harrison! Vanessa!” I screamed their names, dragging the heavy dress toward the exit, coughing as the acrid smoke filled my lungs. Then, through the haze, I saw him. “Harrison!” Relief flooded me. But then I heard Vanessa coughing violently. I turned to help her, but a shadow moved past me. Harrison. He didn’t just run to her; he practically slid across the floor to reach her knees. At that exact moment, a burning beam form the ceiling gave way, crashing down toward me. It clipped my shoulder, pinning me. Pain exploded through my body, blinding and white-hot. “Hold on! Don’t be scared, I’ve got you!” Harrison was shouting, but not at me. He was looking right through me, his eyes locked solely on Vanessa. Flames were licking at his jacket, his face red from the heat, but he shielded her body with his own. He scooped her up. He didn’t look back. Hallie was right. Vanessa was the one he loved. 3 The fire spread. The smoke turned the world into a choking gray void. I watched Harrison carry Vanessa out the door. My leg was pinned under the debris. I couldn’t move. In a pathetic, childish part of my brain, I kept waiting for him to come back. Five years. We had five years. Surely, he would come back for me. He didn’t. The darkness took me before the firefighters did. … When I woke up, the sterile beep of monitors greeted me. “Meredith? Oh, thank God.” Harrison’s face hovered over mine, etched with concern. The performance continued. “Mer.” Vanessa was there too, standing by the bed, her voice soft and trembling. My head throbbed. The two people I trusted most in the world had left me to die. “Meredith, about the fire… I need to explain,” Harrison started, seeing the look in my eyes. He gripped my hand. I wanted to vomit. “It was chaos. Vanessa was closer to the exit, and she looked like she wasn’t breathing. I knew if anything happened to her, you would be devastated. You’d never forgive yourself.” He looked at me with those earnest, puppy-dog eyes. “I got her out and tried to run back in for you, Mer, I swear. But the roof collapsed. The firefighters held me back. I passed out from the smoke trying to get to you.” “It’s true,” Vanessa chimed in, wiping a tear. “He was screaming your name. He practically had to be restrained. He loves you more than his own life, Meredith.” It was a masterclass in gaslighting. If I hadn’t seen him cradle her like a precious jewel while I burned, I might have believed them. “I need to rest,” I whispered. “Please. Leave me alone.” I waited until the door clicked shut. “Sister.” Hallie stepped out from the bathroom. She was still in her hospital gown, leaning on a crutch. “Do you believe me now?” “Yes,” I said, my voice hard. “You were right.” “Good,” she said. “Because there’s one more thing you need to see.” … Hallie took me to a gated community on the outskirts of the city. We parked down the street from a secluded townhouse. “Why are we here?” I asked. This was an investment property Harrison owned. He told me he rented it out to a nice elderly couple. “Just watch.” A car pulled into the driveway. Harrison’s Range Rover. The front door opened, and a little boy, maybe four years old, sprinted out. “Daddy!” Harrison dropped his briefcase and scooped the boy up, spinning him around. “Noah! Did you miss me, buddy? Daddy missed you so much.” I froze. My blood turned to ice. Daddy? Harrison had a child? Who was the mother? “Harrison, you’re spoiling him. I thought you had meetings all night?” The voice drift from the doorway. It was Vanessa. 4 “I canceled them. Noah said he missed his dad, so here I am.” Harrison pinched the boy’s cheek with a tenderness I had never seen, not even with me. They had a child. A walking, talking, four-year-old secret. “Are you staying tonight? Mommy says you have to sleep over,” the boy, Noah, chirped. Harrison laughed, stepping into the house. “Of course. We’re a family. Families sleep together.” He wrapped an arm around Vanessa’s waist, pulling her flush against him. He kissed her—not on the cheek, but deeply, possessively. “You’re my wife in every way that matters,” I heard him say as the door began to close. “Just a little longer. Once I get the Delaney portfolio, I’ll bring you and Noah home. I’ll give you everything.” The door clicked shut. The Delaney portfolio. My family’s company. My inheritance. I sat in the car, trembling. Not from fear, but from a rage so pure it felt like clarity. He had lied for five years. He was using me to strip my family of its legacy. “In the original timeline,” Hallie said softly from the driver’s seat, “Vanessa arranges for your hands to be crushed three years into the marriage. She knew you loved playing the piano. And after my accident… well, I was paralyzed. I couldn’t help you. I was useless.” I looked at my little sister. “It was my fault. I was blind.” I reached over and took her hand. “Never again, Hallie. I’m going to make them pay. Every single cent.” … The wedding day arrived. It was the society event of the season. I made sure of it. I invited everyone—Harrison’s extended family, the business partners, the press, the entire East Coast elite. The music swelled. I walked down the aisle, locking eyes with Harrison. He stood at the altar, looking devastatingly handsome, wiping a fake tear from his eye. The officiant began. “Do you, Meredith Delaney, take this man…” I stayed silent. The officiant cleared his throat. “Meredith? Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” I looked at Harrison. I looked at the crowd. I reached up, ripped the veil from my hair, and threw it on the ground. “No,” I said into the microphone. “I don’t.” The silence was deafening. Then, the whispers started, a rising tide of shock. “Meredith?” Harrison whispered, his smile faltering. “Honey, is this nerves? We can talk about this later.” Vanessa, standing behind me in her maid of honor dress, leaned in. “Meredith, pull it together. This is the biggest day of your life. Just say ‘I do’ and it’s over.” “Oh, it’s over alright,” I said. I turned to the tech booth and nodded. “Let him in.” The heavy oak doors at the back of the venue swung open. “Mommy!” The clear, high voice of a child cut through the tension. On the altar, Harrison and Vanessa turned pale as ghosts.

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The day my benefactor kicked me out for the sake of his “One Who Got Away,” he told me he’d grant me one final wish. I didn’t ask for the deed to the penthouse or the keys to the Porsche. I asked for a strawberry shortcake. For five years, Gideon Montgomery gave me everything my family had clawed away from me. He filled the holes they left behind with designer silk and cold, hard cash. But once I finish this cake, I’ll have nothing left to regret. He needs to give his “Great Love” a respectable place in his life. And I? I know exactly when it’s time to disappear. 1 This was the first New Year’s Eve Gideon actually spent with me. A pot of seafood risotto was bubbling on the stove, sending up clouds of savory steam. Gideon set the last plate of sautéed greens on the table, untied his apron, and called me over. His voice was a beautiful thing—low, resonant, with that effortless authority that comes from old money and expensive schools. Gideon was half-British, with an aristocratic chill in his bones; usually, he stuck to tasting menus and vintage Cabernets. Tonight, however, the table was laid with every comfort food I’d ever mentioned loving. He’d even made handmade dumplings—a nod to my heritage he usually ignored. I knew the routine. It was the “Goodbye Feast.” When I was six, my parents took me to McDonald’s and let me order a Happy Meal right before they “lost” me in a crowded mall. I learned early on that a full stomach is usually the prelude to an empty heart. So, when Gideon looked at me and said, “Callie, we’re done,” I wasn’t surprised. Happiness always comes with a bill you can’t afford to pay. “What do you want for a settlement? The condo? A lump sum?” Gideon stirred his risotto with a casual grace, his tone as light as if we were discussing tomorrow’s weather. Men like him—men who are elegant even when they’re breaking your heart—always insist on a “civilized” ending for their caged birds. The risotto had too much ginger. It burned my throat as I swallowed. I looked him in the eye and said, “I want a cake.” “That’s it?” “That’s it.” I wanted the kind with three layers of whipped cream, massive strawberries tucked in the middle, and dark chocolate shavings on top. The kind of cake my brother got every single birthday while I watched from the hallway, tasting nothing but the air. “Think carefully, Callie. I don’t want any loose ends later,” Gideon warned. “Valerie is… sensitive. She’s the type to overthink things.” Valerie. The name tasted like ash. I wasn’t going to cling. Gideon had been good to me in his own way—he was generous with his cards and even better at faking the illusion of love. He’d given me the childhood I never had. Once I ate that cake, I’d be whole. Since he was busy building a home for the woman who just flew back from Paris, it was time for me to find my own road. 2 I met Gideon on the ledge of a skyscraper in Chicago. Below us, a crowd of strangers was shouting, some telling me to jump, others telling me to think of my family. The police had called my parents. My mother’s voice had crackled over the speaker, screaming that if I was going to die, I should make sure the life insurance beneficiary was set to my brother first. The wind felt like a blade against my skin. It was so high up. One step, and the screaming would stop. Then, the roof door creaked open. A man in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit walked out. The sunlight caught the face of his Patek Philippe, blinding me for a second. He didn’t give me a lecture. He just handed me a massive, cloud-like stick of pink cotton candy. He told me the carnival at the pier closed at five, but we could still make it if we left now. He asked if I wanted to go with him. I ended up on the carousel, eating that cotton candy bite by bite. From that moment on, I belonged to Gideon Montgomery. For five years, he raised the girl I used to be. As a “benefactor,” Gideon was flawless. He was stable, refined, and possessed a gentlemanly grace that made it impossible to find fault with him. Even though I knew I was just a placeholder, a stand-in for a ghost, he never made me feel small. He listened to me. He indulged me. The only time he was ever harsh was behind closed doors, in the dark. His friends used to bet he’d grow bored of me within six months. But a year passed, then two, then five, and I was still there, tucked away in his glass-and-steel fortress. I figured God wasn’t entirely cruel. After twenty years of eating bitter gourds, He’d finally given me a piece of candy. The housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, used to whisper when she thought I couldn’t hear. She said I looked exactly like “The Other One.” Valerie. The woman who had turned down Gideon’s proposal years ago to chase her dreams in Europe. The “White Moonlight” of his soul. I didn’t mind being a shadow. My parents never looked at me twice, but Gideon looked at me and saw the woman he loved. I got the leftovers of that affection, and for a girl like me, leftovers were a feast. 3 Gideon told me to take my time packing. He’d have a car ready for me the next morning. That night, I meticulously organized five years’ worth of jewelry, gold bars, and designer handbags into my suitcases. I didn’t take a single piece of junk that didn’t have resale value. Seattle weather is like a moody teenager. It was snowing last night; by morning, it had turned into a freezing sleet. The rain was sharp, needle-like, chilling me to the marrow. The driver called, his voice tight with feigned regret. “Ms. Quinn, Miss Valerie just landed. She’s fragile and can’t handle the cold. All the house cars have been diverted to the airport to pick up her and her luggage. You’ll have to call an Uber to get down the hill.” I hung up and stared out the window. When I first started staying with Gideon, I didn’t know the rules. I remember leaving a gala once during a torrential downpour. I thought he’d left without me, so I threw my bag over my head and tried to run for the street. Gideon had pulled me back under his massive black umbrella. His six-figure suit was half-soaked, but he didn’t let a single drop touch my silk gown. He told me he hadn’t left; he’d just gone to get the umbrella. A gentleman, he said, never lets a lady stand in the rain. Since then, no matter where he was in the world, someone was always there to hold an umbrella for me when it rained. The memory hit a wall. I laughed at myself, grabbed my suitcase, and walked out into the sleet. The rain was just as cold as it looked. But it was time to go. You can’t spend your whole life expecting someone else to keep you dry. 4 The freezing rain triggered a relapse of my pneumonia. I spent the next five days in a hospital bed near the airport, tethered to an IV drip. On the last day, I was drifting in and out of sleep when a sharp scream jolted me awake. A searing pain shot through the back of my hand. A woman passing my bed had caught her Hermès Birkin chain on my IV line. Instead of stopping, she’d yanked it in frustration. The needle tore through my skin, ripping the tape and leaving a jagged gash. Blood started welling up instantly, dripping onto the white linoleum. “Oh my God! Gross! Look what she did to my bag!” “I just got back to the States, and I am so not used to these public clinics. Gideon, babe, come here!” The moment Gideon appeared, I froze. I looked up at the woman—Valerie. Our eyes, our jawlines… the resemblance was haunting. I finally saw the original of the portrait I’d been playing. Blood pitter-pattered onto the floor. Gideon frowned, his gaze landing on me, then darting away. He didn’t say a word. The silence stretched until it was deafening. Valerie looped her arm through his, asking in her soft, honeyed voice, “Honey, what’s wrong? Do you know this girl?” For a split second, I saw a flicker of something in Gideon’s eyes. Regret? Guilt? It didn’t matter. He looked away, draped his coat over Valerie’s shoulders, and spoke. “No. I don’t know her.” “A nurse will handle it,” he added. “Let’s get you to the car.” Valerie nodded sweetly. As they turned to leave, she shot a look back at me over her shoulder. It wasn’t a look of pity; it was the sharp, jagged grin of a victor. 5 That night, a blocked number called my new phone. Gideon’s voice was low, roughened by the kind of exhaustion that comes after a long night. “Callie. Tomorrow, I’m sending a car to take you to a private clinic. Don’t make things difficult for Valerie.” “Have a doctor look at your hand,” he added. I agreed to everything, sitting on the edge of my hotel bed. The silence on the other end lasted so long I thought he’d hung up. Then, he spoke again, out of nowhere. “I didn’t realize it was your birthday the day you left. You didn’t have to leave in the rain. I’m sorry.” “Happy birthday.” “Don’t be sorry, Mr. Montgomery,” I said quietly. “You’ve paid me more than enough. I’m satisfied.” “Thank you. And congratulations on your marriage.” … My treatment was over. I already had my flight booked. When Gideon’s driver showed up the next morning, I refused the ride. The driver, a man named Miller who had always been kind to me, practically begged. He pulled a beautifully wrapped box from the trunk. “Ms. Quinn, please. If you don’t take this, the boss will have my head. It’s a birthday gift.” I opened it. It was a couture gown encrusted with pink diamonds. It shimmered like a dream. The receipt was still in the box. If Gideon insisted on paying me off with one last shiny toy, I wasn’t going to argue with the math. I had a few hours before my flight; I figured I’d stop by the flagship store and return it for the cash. Fate, however, is a sadistic bitch. In a city of millions, I walked straight into Valerie at the boutique. 6 “I’m sorry, ma’am. This specific Spring Couture piece was sold yesterday. It’s a global limited edition.” “We can’t even take a backorder. The gentleman who bought it was very specific.” The sales associates were hovering around Valerie, trying to placate her. Valerie was fuming, tossing her hair and complaining loudly about the “lack of service” in the city. Suddenly, her eyes narrowed. She pointed at the manager’s tablet. “I don’t care! I want that dress for my morning-after silk! If I don’t get it, I’m calling your corporate office and making sure you’re all in the unemployment line!” The manager was sweating, checking the system. She whispered to a colleague about contacting the buyer, a “Mr. Montgomery.” Valerie’s ears perked up. “Wait… Gideon bought it? Oh, so it’s a surprise for me…” I stood behind her, clutching the garment bag containing the very same dress. My heart did a slow, heavy roll in my chest. I tried to slip away. I was one second too late. Valerie saw me in the three-way mirror. She watched as the sales associate took my bag and verified the authenticity of the dress. Valerie’s long, manicured nails tapped against the glass counter. Suddenly, she spun around and slapped me across the face. “Call the police!” she shrieked. “My husband bought this for me! How does a girl like this have it? Thief! Someone catch this thief!” 7 By the time the police arrived, Gideon was there too. He was in a black suit today, his silver-rimmed glasses catching the cold light of the store. He looked at me with a face so stern it felt like a physical weight. His expression told me one thing: I had overstepped. Miller, the driver who had handed me the box just hours ago, stood there and changed his story on the spot. Under Gideon’s icy gaze, he claimed he’d never seen the dress. He turned “gift” into “theft.” I was taken to the precinct, processed, and locked in a holding cell. Gideon stood on the other side of the bars, looking at me with profound disappointment. “I told you,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous silkiness. “I told you not to bother her.” “Stay in here for a while. Let it sink in. And when you get out, never come back to this city.” I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell him the truth. But the words died in my throat. I remembered a time when I was ten. My mother had given me the last piece of candy in the jar. I was so happy I was slow to unwrap it. My brother saw it and threw a tantrum, screaming that Mom was being unfair. My mother had walked over, slapped me, and told the whole family I’d stolen the candy. She knew I was innocent. But to keep her precious son happy, my dignity was a small price to pay. I should have run with the candy then. I should have run as far as I could. … I spent fifteen days in lockup. My flight was gone. My record now had a permanent stain. Not that I was planning on applying for a government job—with parents like mine, I’d never pass a background check anyway. When I walked out of the station, Gideon’s Bentley was idling at the curb. He was leaning against the hood, smoking. The smoke curled around him, masking his expression, making him look strangely solitary. My father used to smoke before he hit me, so the smell always made me shiver. Gideon used to be careful. He’d only smoke on the balcony when he was pushed to the brink. I didn’t care if he was stressed anymore. I just walked up and gave him a polite nod. He crushed the cigarette and hesitated before shoving a check into my hand. The dress was worth twenty thousand. He’d added an extra zero to the amount. It was enough. More than enough. When I got hit over that piece of candy as a kid, no one gave me a dime. I just went to bed hungry. Gideon opened the car door for me. I shook my head. I’d finally learned my lesson. I was going to run. Right now. Gideon’s hand faltered. He tried to act indifferent. “I know you got the raw end of the deal with the dress. Valerie… she just misunderstood.” “What are your plans? If you want to stay in the city, I can make it happen.”

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Carter found me too clingy, so he tossed me to his roommate. Because of that, every message I sent was answered by his roommate. Every anniversary gift I received was carefully picked out by his roommate. I was completely in the dark, eagerly counting down the days until our three-year anniversary meet-up. When we finally met in person, my boyfriend was tall, gorgeous, loved holding hands, and got shy incredibly easily. I couldn’t stop looking at him; I was beyond satisfied. The only thing was that he didn’t like to talk much, and he guarded me against other guys like they were trying to steal his wallet. I used to laugh and tell him he was making a big deal out of nothing—it wasn’t like I was some highly sought-after prize. That was until one day, an arrogant guy blocked our path on campus. His eyes were dark and furious, glaring dead at the person standing beside me. “Ethan, where the hell did you get a girlfriend?” 1 I had noticed that “Carter” had been acting a bit different over the past year. Before, when we chatted on Instagram, he didn’t talk much, but every sentence felt alive. But over this last year, his tone became stiff. Sometimes, the words popped up one by one, feeling almost forced. It was a bit like… I thought about it, a bit like the cold, unfamiliar feeling of a robot executing a command. I tentatively asked him once: “Do you… not like me anymore?” The reply came back fast, anxious and urgent. “No!” “I like you!” Before I could even respond, he started typing again. The typing bubble stayed on the screen for a long time. “Very busy today. Basketball game. Not ignoring your messages.” I shook my head, smiling as I typed back: “Okay, babe. I was wrong for doubting you. My bad.” But you couldn’t really blame me for overthinking. Online dating just lacked that sense of security. I hummed to myself, suddenly remembering something. I sent a few happy puppy emojis and followed up. “Do you still remember our promise? We get to meet in a few days.” The typing indicator popped up again. He was typing… and typing… and typing… I waited patiently at first, but my patience eventually ran out. “What is this supposed to mean? If you want to break up, just say it. If you don’t want to meet, just block me.” Carter seemed to panic. His message popped up instantly. “We can. Meet!” I smiled triumphantly. That was more like it. Immediately after, he transferred $15,000 to me via Apple Pay. I sent a question mark: “?” “Buy,” he replied quickly, adding two more words a second later: “Flight tickets.” Speaking of which, apart from talking less, the other big change in Carter over the past year was his love for sending me money. He used to send small gifts for holidays or my birthday, but this past year, the transfers came at all hours of the day and night. Sometimes, I’d just send him a random photo I took on my walk, and if there happened to be a pretty flower in the frame, he’d spot it and immediately send a few thousand dollars with the note: “Buy flowers. Pretty.” It gave me the impression that, in his own clumsy way, he couldn’t think of any other way to make me happy besides spending money. I didn’t accept the transfer. Instead, I snapped a selfie and sent it to him. “I already got approved for a one-year exchange program at Boston University!” I typed excitedly. “Carter, I can come find you at your campus. Are you happy?” I loved the ocean, so when we originally promised to meet, we agreed our first meeting would be in Miami. I went to the University of Miami, and he went to BU—two top-tier schools on opposite ends of the East Coast. The two universities had a long history of academic exchange, and students with top GPAs could apply for a semester or a year. It took Carter a long time to reply. I was clutching my phone, almost falling asleep, when his message finally came through. Just one word. “Happy.” 2 The moment I landed in Boston, my mom’s phone call chased me down. “I set up a meeting for you. Just treat it as making a new friend, and remember to visit old Mrs. Vance to pay your respects. Don’t be rude.” I hadn’t dared to tell my mom that I had an online boyfriend. Because of that, she had been relentlessly reminding me that once I got to Boston, I absolutely had to visit the family we supposedly had a childhood “verbal betrothal” with. I figured it would be a good opportunity to clear the air face-to-face, so I didn’t refuse. Plus, I heard the guy’s last name was also Hayes. Because of Carter, I had a bit of a soft spot for that name. However, I waited at the agreed-upon coffee shop from the afternoon straight into the evening, and the guy never showed up. Honestly, I kind of expected it. My mom told me the Hayes family used to live in our small town in Florida when I was five, but later moved to Boston. Word was they had clung to the coattails of the incredibly wealthy and famous Vance family, and their social status had skyrocketed. Naturally, they probably looked down on a small-town girl like me. They were probably terrified I’d try to leech off them. My mom was a hot-tempered chatterbox. I was a mild-tempered chatterbox. We stayed on the phone for half an hour, taking turns roasting the Hayes family. Finally, my dad’s slow, calm voice chimed in from the background. “Honey, don’t swear in front of the kid. You’ll teach her bad habits.” I laughed, suddenly remembering something. I grabbed my phone and snapped a picture of the Boston skyline. I opened my Instagram DMs with Carter, tossed the photo into the chat, and rapidly typed a few words. “I’m here! Countdown to meeting: 1 day!” 3 Meanwhile, outside the Computer Science dorms at BU. A group of guys were walking back from the athletic fields when one of them let out a surprised shout. “Whoa, isn’t that the Vance family’s car? Ethan Vance? What is he doing on campus?” Carter Hayes, wearing simple grey sweatpants and a white tee, holding a basketball, looked over at the sound. A low-profile, custom black Bentley was parked not too far away, one of the rear doors wide open. From his angle, Carter could only see a pale, distinctly knuckled hand gripping the door frame so tightly the veins were popping out. Carter knew that look. It was a look of absolute, paralyzing terror and a deep-seated aversion to stepping into a crowd. Ethan… Carter frowned. He couldn’t fathom why Ethan would try coming to campus again, especially since he had failed so miserably the last time. His roommate, Jake, looked confused too. “Doesn’t he have crippling social anxiety? Last year he came to our dorm saying he wanted to ‘overcome’ it. The rich kid lasted exactly two days as our roommate before he cracked.” “It’s getting late, and they drove him all the way out here. Don’t tell me they expect you to play babysitter again, Carter,” Jake said carelessly, before catching the look on Carter’s face. He quickly backpedaled. “I mean, who cares if he’s the sole heir to a billion-dollar empire? The guy can barely string a sentence together. How’s he supposed to run the Vance Corporation?” “No wonder old Mrs. Vance values you so much, Carter. When she kicks the bucket, that grandson of hers is going to have to rely entirely on you.” Carter didn’t say a word. He pulled his gaze away from the Bentley and walked away, acting like he didn’t care. Inside the car, Ethan pressed his lips together. His stunning, aristocratic face was pale, his porcelain skin dotted with cold sweat. His hand was still locked onto the door frame. It took him a long time before he finally whispered, “Will she… think I’m a freak?” Arthur, the family’s silver-haired butler, felt a pang of heartache. But he didn’t dare comfort him with the same confident reassurances he used to offer: Our young master is brilliant and handsome, who would ever think you’re a freak? When Ethan was little, he had a playmate who acted incredibly fond of him to his face. But behind his back, the boy called Ethan a “freak” and an “idiot.” Young Ethan had been hiding behind a door and heard every word. Since that day, he had completely shut down and refused to make friends. Thankfully, over the last few years, he had Carter Hayes around. Arthur didn’t know what kind of method Carter was using, but over this past year, Ethan had become so much more alive. He was always on his phone, he’d sometimes smile to himself as if no one else was in the room, and now he had actually volunteered to attend classes on campus. Because of this progress, the Vance family had poured massive resources into the Hayes family over the last few years, elevating their status immensely. As for this “she” Ethan was talking about, Arthur had no idea who it was, assuming it was just the anxiety talking. Arthur gently tried to change the subject. “Why don’t we head back home for tonight? We can try again another…” Ethan looked up, his eyes gorgeous and resolute. He shook his head. “Have to meet her.” 4 The Sociology 101 lecture hall at BU was packed. By the time I rushed in with my textbooks, there were only a handful of empty seats left. My eyes swept over the room and landed on a specific spot. In the third-to-last row by the window, a single person was sitting all alone. The seats in a full circle around him were completely empty, as if someone had drawn a quarantine line that no one dared to cross. The guy sitting there had a perfectly straight posture, almost rigidly so. He wore a simple white button-down, the sleeves rolled up to reveal pale wrists. The lecture hall was loud and chaotic, but he kept his head down, his long eyelashes casting small shadows under his eyes. He was so quiet it felt like someone had hit the pause button on him. I took a deep breath. I was almost entirely certain. As I walked toward him, a nervous-looking guy tried to intercept me. “Hey, you can sit over here. No one’s allowed to sit next to him.” Perhaps hearing the exchange, the guy at the window snapped his head up. The moment our eyes met, he froze completely. His light brown eyes flickered with shattered, nervous energy. I gently shook my head at the guy who stopped me and whispered, “Thanks, but I’m looking for him.” I plopped down into the seat right next to him. For a split second, the noisy area around us went dead silent. I didn’t care. I tilted my head, looked at him, and softened my voice. “Carter?” He couldn’t speak for a long time. Finally, he let out a tiny, barely-there “Yeah.” His voice was low, slightly raspy. I happily reached out and hooked my pinky finger around his, whispering, “I knew it was you. I recognized you instantly. Aren’t I amazing?” He didn’t speak, but the tips of his ears turned a violent shade of red that visibly spread down to his cheeks. I was stunned. Afraid he might spontaneously combust from embarrassment, I quickly let go of his hand. But a second later, he looked at me with wide, shocked eyes, looking exactly like an abandoned puppy. So, I slipped my hand back into his and asked casually, “By the way, what’s your real name? You said when we finally met, you’d tell me.” When we chatted online, neither of us used our real names. It started because I was going through an abstract internet phase and insisted on using weird screen names, and eventually, we just got used to it. Hearing this, he pressed his lips together, his expression suddenly very serious. “Ethan. My name is Ethan Vance.” I swung his hand lightly, smiling until my eyes were half-moons. “Hi Ethan. It is so incredibly nice to meet you.” 5 Ethan’s condition was a bit worse than I had imagined. When I first matched with “Carter” on the app, the system showed our compatibility at 98%. His tags were: Withdrawn, Aloof, Fearful. From the very beginning of our chats, I knew Ethan had a condition—a severe form of social anxiety and trauma that didn’t have a simple name. Because of severe emotional trauma when he was young, he was terrified of face-to-face interactions and crowds. He couldn’t live normally in the real world, couldn’t speak to strangers, couldn’t make friends. So, he hid himself away on the internet. Honestly, at first, I just felt a bit of pity for him. It was like seeing a stray cat shivering in an alley during a rainstorm; the natural instinct is to hold an umbrella over it. But unexpectedly, we clicked. It was a deep, soul-level alignment. We read the same books, watched the same obscure movies, listened to the same instrumental music. He always managed to catch the unspoken emotions behind my words perfectly. My roommate, Mia, used to lean over my desk, looking at me in the mirror with utter confusion. “Why are you doing the online dating thing? With your looks, you could stand in the quad for five minutes and have eighty guys begging for your number.” I thought about it for a long time, but my answer sounded like a textbook hopeless romantic. “He’s different.” Everyone in my family was ridiculously good-looking, which meant I had a built-in immunity to pretty faces. To me, the cookie-cutter standard of attractiveness was nowhere near as precious as a brilliant, fascinating mind. And Ethan was brilliant. Almost terrifyingly so. During my senior year of high school, when the pressure of AP classes was crushing me, he practically became my tutor. No matter how impossible the calculus problem, he could break it down perfectly through a screen, typing out thousands of words of step-by-step logic just to help me grasp a weak subject. I looked down. Ethan was holding my hand. He was gripping it very, very tightly. I smiled, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Relax, babe. I’m not going to run away.” He pressed his lips together, switched hands, and held on even tighter. I sat next to him, happily chattering away about everything under the sun. I talk a lot, and unlike most people, I love adding dramatic, colorful details. A story about someone stepping on the back of my shoe at the airport could be a one-sentence anecdote for a normal person; I could stretch it into a ten-minute comedy routine. After talking so much, I unconsciously swallowed, my throat feeling dry. The next second, a pale, elegant hand appeared in my vision, holding an opened, flawlessly clean thermos. My eyes lit up. I took it and drank a huge gulp. The water wasn’t too hot or too cold—it was the perfect temperature, and it even had a faint, soothing hint of lemon and mint. “Babe, you are way too sweet!” I teased, looking at him with a grin. “Thanks, boyfriend.” The tips of Ethan’s ears went bright red again. He stammered, “Y-you’re welcome.” I smiled and reached up to smooth his dark hair. It was soft, like silk. It doesn’t matter if you don’t like to talk, I thought. I talk enough for the both of us. 6 “I heard Ethan Vance is back on campus.” “You should buddy up to him. Keep a close eye on him. If you can get that kid to say even a single word when he goes back home, the Vance family will owe you big time.” “You hearing me, Carter?” Carter Hayes let out a scoffing laugh and hung up the phone. His roommate, Jake, noticed he looked annoyed and tried to think of something entertaining. His eyes lit up. “Hey, did you hear? We got a new exchange student in the CS department. Holy crap, bro, she is stunning.” “She walked past the courts this afternoon and someone snapped a pic for the campus confession page. Half the comments are already shipping you two.” “Look, the comments are crazy… ‘Help! They don’t even know each other but I’ve already written a 100k-word college romance in my head!’” “Nothing else matters, just based on their faces, I’m fully on board!” Jake pulled up the photo and slapped his thigh. “Dude, Carter, this girl is exactly your type!” He looked up and realized Carter wasn’t listening at all, his eyes glued to the game on his monitor. Jake scratched his head. “Oh, right, I forgot. You have that online girlfriend visiting. When are you guys finally meeting up?” Carter didn’t even look away from the screen. “She was just something to kill time when I was bored. Who said she’s my girlfriend?” “Besides, with the way she looks…” Carter thought back, almost forgetting why he had started talking to her in the first place. He had accidentally hit the video call button once and caught a glimpse of her face from a terrible angle—a round, puffy face with tiny eyes. Definitely not attractive. At the time, he could have just ghosted her. But then he looked over at Ethan. His online girlfriend needed someone to reply to her messages 24/7. Ethan needed an excuse to never open his mouth 24/7. So he tossed the girl he was annoyed by to the guy he despised. A chatterbox and a mute. A cold smirk touched the corner of Carter’s lips. A match made in heaven. He had specifically warned Ethan—he could chat with her, but he was strictly forbidden from meeting her in person. Carter didn’t want the hassle of dealing with the fallout. After all, Ethan was just a fake stand-in; he definitely didn’t have the guts to show up to a real-life date. The very next day, Carter and his crew were hanging out near the basketball courts when a girl walked toward them. The afternoon sun hit her perfectly. Her skin was luminous, her features striking and bright, and she carried herself with tall, confident grace. There was no one this gorgeous at BU. This had to be the transfer student Jake was raving about. Carter’s throat bobbed, and he smiled to himself. Jake really did know his type. Used to being the center of attention, he was always the one being approached. For the first time in his life, he took the initiative and walked up to someone. “Hey. I’m Carter Hayes. Mind if we be friends?” 7 I froze for a second, looking up at him. The guy standing in front of me was undeniably handsome in a very sharp, aggressive way. He had an arrogant, careless energy about him. If Ethan’s beauty was like fragile, cold porcelain, the guy in front of me was like a drawn sword—sharp and full of himself. He’s also named Carter Hayes? What a coincidence. Ethan probably never imagined that the random fake name he picked would belong to a real guy on his campus. I snapped out of it and smoothly handled the approach. “Hi, I’m Chloe. Nice to meet you, friend.” Remembering that Ethan was waiting for me, I gave him a polite nod and kept walking toward the campus exit. Behind me, Jake and the other guys started howling and teasing him. “Oh man, she ran away! She’s totally blushing!” “Carter, you’ve still got it. There isn’t a girl alive you can’t charm!” Carter just shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled like it was an everyday occurrence. Ethan still couldn’t adapt to the dorms, so he had only stayed on campus for one day before returning to the Vance estate. I had a few afternoon classes today, and his car was already waiting at the campus gates. “You didn’t have to get here so early,” I said as I climbed in, reaching out with both hands to squish his cheeks. “It’s so boring waiting out here.” He sat perfectly still, letting me squish his face. “Not boring. Not seeing you… is boring.” I pouted slightly, amazed that this little introvert was actually so good at sweet-talking. The car pulled into a luxury high-rise building not far from BU. Ethan led me into a massive penthouse apartment. I turned to look at him, confused. “For you,” he said, pulling a property deed seemingly out of nowhere. “For school.” I panicked and waved my hands frantically. “No way, absolutely not.” An apartment in this building had to be worth millions. There was no way I was accepting that. I spoke quickly: “I’m totally fine living in the dorms, it’s super convenient.” I had seen the BU dorms. They were standard four-person suites, nice enough, with decent space. “Plus, I’m only here for a year, it’s not like I’m staying forever—” Before I could finish, the light in Ethan’s eyes dimmed. I quickly backpedaled. “Ah! I just mean, who buys someone an apartment the second time they meet? No, no, no. Even boyfriends don’t do that.” “Dorms are bad,” he insisted softly. He paused, looking like his brain was running a desperate search algorithm for a logical argument. Finally, he added, “The bathrooms aren’t big enough.” …I literally could not argue with that. Ethan didn’t push it. He just stood there, looking down at me. His long eyelashes hid most of his eyes, making him look quiet and wronged, like a giant dog that had been left in the rain. I had no defense against that look. I poked him in the nose with my index finger and huffed. “Fine. I will live here temporarily, but I am absolutely not taking this deed.” Ethan pressed his lips together, but the corners of his mouth curved up ever so slightly.

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I slept with the Supreme Commander of the Federation. My goal was to borrow his S-class pheromones to cure my genetic disease. After the treatment, I ran, casually leaving a single coin on his nightstand. It was an acknowledgment of his… services. I thought my plan was flawless. Until three months later, I was pinned to the ground while buying suppressants in the black market. Arthur pressed his gun against the back of my head, his tone freezing cold: “Finally caught you.” “Ethan, I was very dissatisfied with that one-dollar tip you left that night.” I instinctively shielded my stomach. No other reason. Just that this “job” had resulted in a little surprise. 1 When Arthur caught me, I was throwing up. Leaning against the filthy wall of the black market, I was retching so hard I thought I’d bring up bile. Being pregnant… this whole thing was way too out of bounds for a guy who had been an Alpha for twenty-six years. I should have just stabbed Arthur that night instead of getting soft-hearted and merely using him as an antidote. “Are you done throwing up?” A voice as cold as ice came from above. My spine stiffened. I didn’t need to look up to know who it was. That pheromone scent, like frozen earth after a blizzard—there was no second person in the entire Federation with it. Arthur. The Supreme Commander of the Federation, an S-class Alpha known as the “Mad Dog.” He was also my former partner and my current mortal enemy. I wiped my mouth, slowly stood up straight, turned around, and flashed him a grin. “Well, Commander Arthur. Long time no see. Missed me that much?” Arthur didn’t smile. Behind him stood a fully armed special forces squad, their muzzles pointing uniformly at my head. This kind of lineup was a bit excessive, even for my funeral. Arthur, his black-gloved fingers resting on his holster, ran his dark, brooding gaze over me. Finally, his eyes settled on my stomach. My heart skipped a beat. I was wearing loose clothes, so I wasn’t showing much, but his eyes were as venomous as a snake’s. “Your skills have slipped, Ethan.” “You used to be able to smell me three streets away. Now I’m standing right behind you, and you’re dealing with morning sickness?” He used the term “morning sickness.” Not “nausea.” My pupils contracted slightly, and the dagger in my hand quietly slipped into my palm. “My stomach’s been acting up lately. Ate something bad.” “What, does Commander Arthur care about my diet now?” Arthur let out a cold laugh. The next second, he struck without warning. If it were the old days, I could have gone three hundred rounds with him. But now? First, my legs were weak from throwing up. Second, the aftereffects of my genetic disease, combined with the little vampire in my belly, meant my stamina was currently worse than a Beta’s. I only had time to raise my arm to block. Crack. Sharp pain shot through my wrist. Just like that, he twisted my arms behind my back and slammed me hard against the grimy wall. “Ugh… Arthur, you son of a…” “Shh.” The cold barrel of the gun pressed against the back of my head. Arthur leaned in close to my ear, his tone freezing: “Finally caught you.” “Ethan, I was very dissatisfied with that one-dollar tip you left that night.” 2 I was taken back to Federal Prison No. 3. This place was specifically for S-class felons, known as the “Living Tomb.” And I was enjoying the highest level of treatment—personal interrogation by Arthur. The heat was off in the interrogation room, and it was bone-chillingly cold. I was locked in a specialized interrogation chair, my hands and feet tightly shackled. These shackles could suppress pheromones; if I struggled too much, they would release a high-voltage shock. Arthur sat across from me, slowly and methodically cleaning his gun. It was the birthday present I gave him back in the day. I didn’t expect him to keep it until now, much less plan to use it to shoot me. “Ethan, three years on the run, and this is what you’ve reduced yourself to?” He looked up at me, his gaze critical. I was definitely looking rough right now. I’d been stripped down to a single, thin T-shirt. My abdomen was throbbing dully from the violent struggle earlier. I gritted my teeth, fighting back the waves of nausea welling up in my throat. “I’m doing alright.” I forced a smirk. “Just came back for a family visit, you know.” “Family visit?” Arthur acted like he’d just heard a joke. “Visiting who? That former partner you shot through the shoulder and left in the ruins?” Arthur had a through-and-through scar on his body. I did that. Three years ago, the first signs of my genetic breakdown appeared. To avoid dragging him down, and to find a banned drug only available on the black market, I orchestrated a defection. I deliberately missed his vital organs with that shot, but I didn’t expect him to hold a grudge until now. “That was an accident.” “The gun misfired.” SLAM! Arthur slammed his hand on the table. “An accident?” “And sneaking into my residence, drugging me, and using me like a cheap gigolo for a night—was that an accident too?!” I didn’t expect things to turn out like that either. Three months ago, I desperately needed Arthur’s bone marrow fluid or highly concentrated pheromones as a catalyst for my medicine. I sneaked into his residence, originally planning to just draw a vial of his blood. Who knew I’d walk right into the middle of his explosive rut? The whole room was filled with that maddening scent. As an Alpha whose genes were on the verge of collapse, being stimulated by that top-tier oppressive aura caused an immediate, massive rejection reaction. I went crazy too. Only one thought remained in my mind: I need him. What happened next was a blur. I only remember biting, tangling, and him calling my name in the haze of passion. But I couldn’t admit it. If I admitted it, not only would I lose the cub, I’d lose my life too. “Commander Arthur, you need evidence for those claims.” I stared into his eyes, forcing myself to stay calm. “Your residence is heavily guarded. How could I possibly get in? Besides, I’m an Alpha, you’re an Alpha. How do two rock-hard men sleep together? A sword fight?” Arthur narrowed his eyes. “You’re an Alpha?” He suddenly reached out, his hand moving toward the scent gland on the back of my neck. There was a heavy-duty blocker patch stuck there. “Ethan, your pheromone scent has changed.” “It used to smell like strong liquor, now…” He leaned in closer and sniffed, frowning. “Why does it smell like milk?” 3 A herd of wild horses was trampling through my heart. That was the specific scent of an Omega during pregnancy. Even a blocker patch couldn’t completely hide it. “It’s a new cologne. You wouldn’t get it.” “Is it?” Arthur sneered. His fingers suddenly tightened, ready to rip off the blocker patch. “Then let me smell what brand this cologne is.” “Don’t touch me!” I panicked and struggled violently. If he discovered my scent gland had mutated into an Omega’s, everything was over. The shackles sensed my struggle and instantly released a high-voltage current. Zzzzt—! “Ugh!” Agony ripped through my entire body. My vision went black, and I slumped in the chair, convulsing. The electricity didn’t just shock my nerves; it stimulated my already unstable reproductive cavity. It felt like someone had viciously kicked my stomach. The pain made me curl up, and cold sweat instantly soaked my back. “Ethan!” Arthur didn’t seem to expect me to react this violently. He immediately cut the power and reached out to slap my face. “Stop playing dead! That was nothing!” I didn’t have the energy to play dead. I was in real pain. I could even feel something slowly slipping away. “Medicine…” I gripped his sleeve. “Give me my medicine…” “What medicine?” Arthur’s face changed; he must have realized something was very wrong. My body temperature was dropping rapidly, and my lips had turned a purplish-blue. “I have a genetic disease… I need my suppressants…” I shivered, speaking half-truths. I couldn’t say “pregnancy-preserving drugs.” If I did, it would be two lives lost. Arthur stared at me dead on, his eyes unreadable. Just when I thought he was going to watch me die in pain, he suddenly turned and pulled a syringe from the drawer of the interrogation table. It was a military emergency med-kit. Without hesitation, he injected it into my jugular vein. The liquid pushed in, freezing cold. The pain eased slightly. I gasped for air, like a fish just pulled out of the water. Arthur threw away the syringe and grabbed my chin again. “Ethan, what exactly are you hiding from me?” “I’ve checked your physical data. An S-class Alpha’s constitution wouldn’t collapse from that little bit of electricity.” “Unless…” His gaze moved down again, locking onto my abdomen. It was still spasming from the pain. “Unless your physical structure has mutated.” “Take off your clothes.” “What?” I froze for a second. “I said, take off your clothes.” Arthur stood up straight. “Or do I have to do it for you?” “Right here? Are you crazy, Arthur?” “I do what I want, where I want.” He didn’t give me a chance to refuse, grabbing the hem of my T-shirt directly. Riiiip— The fabric tore. My upper body was exposed to the air. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Because my body was covered in scars. Knife wounds, bullet wounds, burn marks—crisscrossing like an ugly web. Arthur’s gaze didn’t linger on those old scars. He stared at my lower abdomen. There was a slight bulge there. If you didn’t look closely, you’d think it was just relaxed muscle. But Arthur reached out and placed his hand over it. I shuddered, instinctively trying to pull back, but there was nowhere to hide. “What is this?” His voice trembled. It carried extreme shock and disbelief. “A lump? A tumor?” He pressed down slightly. I let out a muffled groan. The little cub inside, as if sensing the approach of its other half’s bloodline, actually moved at that very moment. It was a very faint movement. But Arthur froze completely. “It moved…?” I closed my eyes in despair. It was over. This time, it was really over. “Ethan.” Arthur’s voice was hoarse, laced with desperation. “Are you… pregnant?” “An Alpha… pregnant?” 4 Since I couldn’t hide it anymore, there was no need to keep playing the submissive fool. “Yes.” I opened my eyes and looked at him provocatively. “If you don’t believe me, you can cut it open right now and see if it’s a freak or a miracle.” “Whose is it?” He thought I had been sleeping around with wild men out there, knocked up, and came back just to disgust him. I suddenly found it a bit funny. “It’s not yours, anyway.” I deliberately provoked him. “You know what the black market is like. To stay alive, sometimes you have to pay a price…” “Shut up!” He grabbed me by the throat, his eyes bloodshot. “Ethan, how dare you… how dare you let another Alpha touch you?!” The feeling of suffocation rushed in. My vision started to go black, but a smile still hung on my lips. “Cough… Commander Arthur… we broke up a long time ago… who I sleep with… is none of your damn business…” “I forbid it!” Arthur seemed to have lost his mind, his pheromones violently washing over the entire room. “You are mine! Even if you’re a corpse, you’re mine!” “Who does that bastard child belong to?! I’ll kill him! I’ll tear him to pieces!” His grip tightened. I was really going to be strangled to death. The fetus in my abdomen sensed the mother’s crisis and began to struggle violently. It hurt so much. A hundred times worse than the electric shock just now. “Ugh…” I finally couldn’t hold it in and let out a painful groan. That sound seemed to bring back Arthur’s sanity. He looked at my pale face and my starting-to-dilate pupils, and his hand violently released. “Cough, cough, cough…” I coughed violently, greedily sucking in air. Arthur stumbled back two steps, his chest heaving heavily. He looked at his hands, then at me, curled up in pain, confusion and fear flashing in his eyes. “Ethan…” “Get lost…” I was sweating profusely from the pain, gritting my teeth and cursing: “Arthur, if you want to kill me, just do it… stop torturing me…” “Medic!” Arthur roared toward the door. “Get the military medic in here! Now!” “I dare anyone to come in!” “Arthur, if you dare let anyone else touch me… I’ll die right in front of you.” I still held the broken half of the dagger blade in my hand. I pressed it against my carotid artery. “Let me go.” “Impossible.” Arthur refused without a second thought. “With your physical condition, walking out that door means death.” “Staying here means death!” I stared at him. “Arthur, I’m a mutated Omega from a secondary gender differentiation. This child is a monster; it’s eating my life!” “You need top-tier Alpha pheromones to soothe it. Nobody else can save you.” Arthur calmed down. “Ethan, no matter who this bastard child belongs to, we’re saving your life first.” “Once you’re cured…” A ruthless glint appeared in his eyes. “I will personally abort this abomination, and then I’ll find your wild man and tear him to pieces.” I looked at him. I had a lot of mixed feelings. Are you going to tear yourself to pieces? Idiot. But I didn’t dare say it. This child was his. If he found out the truth, given his obsession with blood purity and his controlling nature, this child wouldn’t live to see tomorrow. And he would lock me up, lock me up for the rest of my life. “Ah—!” A tearing, agonizing pain suddenly erupted in my abdomen. My vision went black, and I completely lost consciousness. But in the last second before I passed out, I heard Arthur’s panicked shouts. “Ethan! Ethan!” And that momentary, trembling embrace that wrapped tightly around me. 5 When I woke up again, I was lying in a hospital bed in the infirmary. There were no shackles on my hands or feet, but there was a collar around my neck. It was the kind of suppression collar with GPS tracking and electric shock capabilities. Arthur sat by the bed, peeling an apple. Seeing I was awake, he cut a slice of the peeled apple and held it to my lips. “Eat.” I didn’t open my mouth, watching him warily. “It’s not poisoned.” He took a bite himself, chewing loudly. Then he said suddenly, “The child is still there.” I froze for a second, instinctively touching my stomach. “Why didn’t you abort it?” Arthur tossed the rest of the apple onto a plate and wiped his hands with a tissue. “The doctor said your reproductive cavity is underdeveloped and the walls are too thin. Forcing an abortion right now carries a 90% chance of massive hemorrhage.” He looked up at me, his eyes cold. “I don’t want you dying on the operating table. That would be letting you off too easy.” “So you’re planning to let me give birth to it?” “Give birth to it, and then I’ll strangle it right in front of you.” A chill ran down my spine. This mad dog would actually do it. I took a deep breath. “Arthur, let’s make a deal.” “I’ll help you find the person who broke into your residence, and you let me and the child go.” Arthur paused his movements. “You know who that person is?” “Of course.” I lied effortlessly. “I saw him in the black market. He’s also an Alpha, very skilled in disguises.” “Oh?” Arthur leaned in close to me. “Then tell me, why does that person have the exact same beautiful peach-blossom eyes as you?” I stopped talking. This bastard was bluffing me. Arthur reached out and gently patted my stomach. “Ethan, do you really think I’m stupid?” “Even though the security footage from that night was deleted, you left behind plenty of biological samples.” “I ran a DNA comparison.” My heart skipped a beat. I was screwed. “The results aren’t out yet.” Arthur slowly added another sentence. “But I have time.” “Until the results are out, you’ll stay here quietly and focus on your pregnancy.” “If you dare to run…” He pointed at the collar on my neck. “This thing can only be unlocked by my fingerprint. If you dare take one step out of this room, it will explode.” “And turn that pretty head of yours into a smashed watermelon.” 6 I was under house arrest. Right under Arthur’s nose. I have to admit, aside from his venomous tongue and ruthless nature, this mad dog really knew how to take care of someone. Three meals a day of top-tier nutritious food, and he watched me finish every bite. He practically gave away his pheromones for free to soothe my restless reproductive cavity. My current body was like a bottomless pit, greedily devouring his pheromones. Sometimes when I woke up in the middle of the night, I’d find him sleeping right next to me. Not back-to-back like we used to. He held me in his arms like a body pillow, his hand resting protectively on my stomach. Even in his sleep, he would unconsciously nuzzle the top of my head with his chin. It gave me an illusion. As if we had never fallen out, as if these three years were just a dream. As if… we really were just a normal Alpha/Omega couple, anticipating the arrival of a new life. But when I was fully awake, I knew this was a dead end. Once that DNA report came out, once he knew this child was his—and also the tool I used to exploit him— What awaited me would undoubtedly be a captivity worse than death. I had to run. The opportunity came quickly. Arthur had to attend a high-level Federation meeting and would be away for three days. He tripled the guards, turning the entire building into an iron fortress. But he underestimated the escape skills of a former S-class agent. On the second night of his absence, I pried open the ventilation duct. The collar was a problem. But I took a gamble. I gambled that Arthur wouldn’t actually blow my head off. I tampered with the collar’s sensor, using a thin wire pulled from the mattress to short-circuit its signal transmitter. I only had three minutes. After three minutes, the system would report an error, and Arthur would receive an alarm. I had to sprint out of this building and jump into the moat within three minutes. Everything went smoothly. Until I climbed out of the vent and stood on the roof, ready to jump. A familiar voice that made my scalp tingle came from behind me. “Ethan.” “Where do you think you’re taking my seed?” I turned around stiffly. In the pouring rain. Arthur hadn’t gone to the meeting. He was wearing that black trench coat, standing in the rain, holding a freshly printed document in his hand. He held up the report, the paper snapping in the wind and rain. “100% match.” He grinned, revealing his stark white teeth. “Ethan, you have some nerve.” “You slept with me, got pregnant with my seed, and then lied to me that it belonged to some wild man?” “Tell me, how should I punish you?” I took a step back, my heels hanging over the edge. Below me was a hundred-meter drop into a rushing river. “Arthur, I don’t owe you anything.” I shouted loudly, my voice torn apart by the wind and rain. “That shot from three years ago, I paid it back! This child… consider it payback too!” “What are you paying me back with?!” Arthur roared furiously, throwing the report aside and charging toward me. “Your body is mine! Your life is mine! This child is mine!” “Get over here!” “In your dreams!” I didn’t want to be his canary anymore, let alone a baby-making machine. I leaned back and spread my arms. Just as Arthur’s fingertips brushed mine, I fell backward. The wind howled past my ears. I saw Arthur lunge to the edge of the roof, half his body leaning out. On that always-calm face, I saw an expression called “despair” for the very first time. “Ethan—!!!” In that moment, I actually felt a twisted sense of satisfaction. So the mad dog feels pain too? Then let him hurt. This was the final bite mark I was leaving him.

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

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