Category: English

After successfully seducing the brooding male lead in my favorite novel, I chose to immediately exit the simulation. Even though he begged me to stay, I didn’t hesitate for a second. Back in the real world, my life was a mess. The System approached me again. It offered me five million dollars to return to the book and make him fall in love with me again. Just as I was about to agree, a stream of comments floated across my vision: “Ugh, the ex-wife who abandoned him is back.” “Does she seriously think the male lead still loves her? Delusional.” “The second transmigrator didn’t just fix his trauma; she stayed. She gave him a home.” “They’re about to get married. Can the ex-wife just have some dignity and leave them alone?” Chapter 1 It took me a long time to realize they were talking about me. “Ex-wife.” Beside me, the System was still pitching the deal. “You just need to make Julian Vance fall in love with you again. Five million dollars, cash. Even if you fail, you get fifty thousand for your trouble. Good deal, right?” It was a good deal. I desperately needed the money. But remembering the comments, I hesitated. I told the System I needed to think about it. So, the System sent me back into the book first. Specifically, to the small apartment Julian and I used to share. It was tiny, worn, but cozy. Exactly as I left it three years ago. Julian hadn’t moved a single thing. Even the dress I stained right before I left was hanging in the closet, clean and pressed. I remembered that dress. It was a designer piece, way out of our budget back then. When Julian secretly bought it for me, I scolded him for spending so much. He didn’t argue. He just stood there, eyes downcast, waiting for my anger to pass so he could coax me into wearing it. I touched the silky fabric, my chest tightening. If Julian had truly forgotten me, why keep this apartment exactly as it was? I looked around the small room. My gaze landed on a piece of white paper taped to the window. FOR SALE. URGENT. PRICE NEGOTIABLE. The handwriting was sharp and familiar. Julian’s. Chapter 2 The floating comments appeared again: “Haha, look at her face. She thought he was sentimental? He just hasn’t gotten around to selling the place yet.” “She probably thinks he still loves her. Jokes on her. Since he met the new girl, he doesn’t give a damn about his ex.” “The System only brought her back to be a villain for the main couple to overcome. Just wait for the humiliation.” I pressed my lips together. So that was it. The System offered five million because it knew I would fail. My real role was to be the evil ex-wife who tries to ruin the relationship. The fifty thousand “consolation prize” was my actual payment for being a plot device. Fifty thousand. I laughed bitterly. Being a clown for fifty thousand wasn’t bad. It would cover a week in the ICU. I called the System and accepted the deal. It happily transferred me a large sum of “in-world currency” for expenses. Since Julian was so eager to sell this place, I might as well buy it. I dialed the number I knew by heart. It rang for thirty seconds before someone picked up. “Hello?” A crisp, cheerful female voice. I paused, checking the number. It was definitely Julian’s. “I saw the for-sale sign on the window…” “You want to buy the apartment?” The voice brightened. “That’s great! We’ve been wanting to get rid of it.” I asked cautiously, “Are you the owner?” “I’m the owner’s girlfriend. You can call me Sophie.” So she was the second transmigrator. There was a muffled sound on the other end, like whispering. A moment later, a cold, familiar voice came through the line. “Hello? Can we meet to discuss the details?” It was Julian. Chapter 3 I waited nervously in the cafe. A sleek luxury car pulled up outside. A stunning couple stepped out. Three years had changed Julian. The boyishness was gone, replaced by the polished confidence of wealth and power. He leaned against the car door, smiling as he ruffled Sophie’s hair. From a distance, his gaze swept over the cafe window where I sat. It lingered for a split second, then moved on as if I were a stranger. When Sophie sat down opposite me, I was still dazed. She smiled apologetically. “My boyfriend has a meeting, so he just dropped me off. I’ll handle the sale.” I nodded. “You two look very happy.” Sophie’s smile widened. “Yeah. He runs a tech company now. Profits are insane. We don’t really need the money from this apartment, we just… want it gone.” Her tone held a hint of superiority. I asked to see the apartment, as was standard procedure. Sophie hesitated. “I don’t have the key. If you want to see it, Julian has to take you.” I frowned. “He didn’t give you the key?” Sophie sighed, lowering her voice. “I asked, but he wouldn’t give it to me. He’s never even taken me there. To be honest, he lived there with his ex-wife when he was poor. It makes me uncomfortable, so I just want to sell it ASAP.” “Oh,” I said. “Then I’ll just sign. I don’t need to see it.” Sophie was thrilled. She pulled out the contract immediately. But since she didn’t have the deed, we couldn’t finalize it. We had to wait for Julian. While we waited, I got curious about my successor. “So, how did you two meet?” Actually, I wanted to know how she managed to fix him. The System told me that after I left, Julian relapsed. He became self-destructive and dangerous. His “Darkness Level” spiked so high it threatened the stability of the simulation. Sophie arrived during that chaos. She not only saved him but replaced me completely. Julian was a tough nut to crack. She must have suffered. But Sophie smiled breezily. “Oh, his ex had just dumped him. He was depressed. I comforted him for a bit, and we got together.” That simple? I couldn’t believe it. The comments flooded my vision again: “Look at her face! She’s so jealous. Julian just can’t resist our Sophie.” “The ex-wife spent ten years trying to fix him. She practically begged him to love her.” “Sophie just said a few nice words and boom, true love. That’s the difference.” I read the mocking words in silence. They were right. My journey with Julian had been brutal. So brutal I never wanted to relive it. Chapter 4 Julian’s parents hated him. They threw him into a mental institution as a child, where he was abused by the staff. Even with the System’s help, getting him out of there almost killed me. I took him to a new city. I made him go to school. I paid for expensive therapy. I did everything to earn his trust. But Julian was too smart. He figured out the world was a simulation, and that I was on a mission. When he became the top student in the state, I threw him a party. He pulled me aside, his eyes cold and mocking. “You did all this just to complete your mission, right?” I choked back tears and admitted it. “My mission is to make you love me. Because I like you.” He scoffed, not believing a word. I buried my face in his chest. “Julian, stop overthinking. Life has been hard. I just want us to be happy. I really like you. Please stop doubting me.” After college, he started his company. We moved into that tiny apartment. There was no heating in the winter. My feet were always freezing. Every night, Julian would warm my feet with his hands, his eyes red with silent guilt. By then, we were married. His life goal shifted from “destroy the world” to “make money to buy my wife a house.” I shielded him from business rivals, taking hits that sent me to the hospital. I endured humiliation from investors so he wouldn’t have to. It took ten years of blood and tears for him to love me. But Sophie? Three weeks. She lowered his Darkness Level to -100 and maxed out his Love Meter in three weeks.

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During the poorest year of our lives, my mom was identified as the long-lost daughter of a billionaire family. I was obsessed with web novels, especially the “Switched at Birth” trope. I often fantasized about the plot: “If only I were the secret heiress, I’d have endless money.” I wanted to buy my mom a huge mansion and hire five or six male models to wait on her hand and foot. I never expected it to actually happen. Except, the lost heiress wasn’t me. It was my mom. And me? I was just the ordinary, third-generation baggage. 1 I was riding my mom’s coattails to the top! Before I could fully process the reality, we were whisked away to the Sterling family estate. The Sterling mansion was massive, complete with manicured gardens and a fountain that probably cost more than my entire existence. Internally, I was screaming. Even after reading a thousand novels about rich families, my poverty-limited imagination couldn’t have conjured this level of luxury. I held my mom’s hand tightly as I looked around. My mom, the heiress missing for thirty-four years. Overwhelmed by the sudden revelation of her identity, she was understandably nervous. I squeezed her hand, a silent signal that I had her back. “Harper, look at me. Is this outfit okay?” My mom tugged nervously at her thrift-store coat, whispering to me. It was old, smelling faintly of the mothballs from the wooden chest we kept it in. But it was the best—and only—decent coat she owned. She only wore it for holidays. Still, standing in front of this three-story palace, we looked painfully out of place. “Mom, you look beautiful,” I said. To me, my mom was the most beautiful woman in the world. 2 I kept a smile plastered on my face, but internally, I was already singing a funeral dirge. Life in a wealthy family is never easy. The novels had taught me the brutal truth: when the real heiress returns, she doesn’t just face a biased family; she faces a scheming, fake heiress. But I was here. I wouldn’t let my mom suffer. As we entered, a group of people approached. I almost shouted, “Where’s my battle axe?!” But then I saw them. Mr. and Mrs. Sterling, both in their fifties. A beautiful, sophisticated woman in her thirties. And her ten-year-old daughter. I paused. Surely that bratty-looking kid wasn’t the fake heiress occupying the nest? While I zoned out, Mrs. Sterling and my mom hugged, weeping. After a tearful reunion, I quickly assessed the situation. The real heiress—my mom—had returned too late. The story was already in its final chapters. The fake heiress, Vanessa, had already secured the money, married the wealthy fiancé, and had a child. The dust had settled. What now? I thought, looking around for a metaphorical weapon. My mom was sobbing in Mrs. Sterling’s arms, calling her “Mom”… I mentally put down my weapon. Nothing else mattered right now. My mom’s life had been bitter. Her adoptive parents were misogynistic nightmares who forced her to drop out of school to support their family. They abused her regularly. When she grew up, they tricked her into marrying a man just to get the dowry money for their son’s wedding. My mom couldn’t fight fate. She lay on a cot in a cramped room, convincing herself, Maybe life after marriage will be better. But life is cruel. Her husband—my biological father—revealed his true colors immediately. He was a drunk and a gambler. When he lost money or got drunk, he used my mom’s face as a punching bag. She endured it all to give me a “complete family.” Until the day his fist turned toward me. That was when she grabbed me and ran. She refused to let me become the second victim. Raising me alone wasn’t easy. With no degree and few skills, she worked three jobs, taking the dirtiest, hardest shifts. Eventually, she saved enough to open a small sandwich stand near my school. We were poor, but she never let me feel less than anyone else. She gave me a happy childhood. She always said, “Harper, as long as Mom is here, you don’t have to worry about anything.” But now, it was different. She had found her mother. She had found a rock to lean on. She could finally cry. She didn’t have to face the cruelty of the world alone. I knew, better than anyone, how deeply my mother craved a family. 3 To celebrate the reunion, the Sterlings prepared a feast. There were dishes on the table I couldn’t even name. Mr. and Mrs. Sterling sat my mom down between them. I sat next to her. Mrs. Sterling kept piling food onto my mom’s plate, asking about her life with concern. Seeing them tear up again, Mr. Sterling changed the subject. “You must be Harper. This is your home now. We are your grandparents. Isn’t it time to change how you address us? Are you shy? Why aren’t you calling us Grandma and Grandpa?” Suddenly put on the spot, my mind went blank. Honestly, I was still in “protective villainess mode” for my mom. I hadn’t switched characters yet. Everyone laughed to cover the awkwardness, and the atmosphere seemed warm. Clatter! The ten-year-old girl across from me threw her chopsticks. This was Bella, the daughter of Vanessa, the fake heiress. She started wailing. “They’re my grandparents, not yours! You hillbilly! You loser! You don’t deserve to be in our house!” Silence fell over the table. My mom instinctively shielded me, her face flushing red with embarrassment. I looked around. Vanessa, the mother, sat there silently. Her silence was an endorsement of her daughter’s behavior. Mrs. Sterling frowned. “Bella, don’t speak to your sister like that. Harper is family now. She lives here.” The girl cried louder. “She’s not my family! Since she got here, you don’t care about me or Mommy anymore! You never scolded me before! She’s a bad person! Her mom is a bad person too!” “Mommy, do Grandma and Grandpa not want us anymore?” Vanessa pulled the girl into her arms, glaring at us with cold eyes. “Mom, don’t forget what you promised me before they came! You said nothing would change. It’s their first day, and Bella is already crying! Maybe in a few days, you and Dad should just rewrite the will and kick us out!” Small tea, big attitude. This fake heiress was arrogant. She had the inheritance and the powerful Preston family backing her up. She didn’t need to pretend to be nice. Mr. Sterling slammed the table. “Vanessa, look at you! What nonsense are you spouting?” Mrs. Sterling looked pained. She opened her mouth to scold Vanessa but couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead, she turned to my mom. “Sarah, don’t take Vanessa’s words to heart. I know we owe you, and I will make it up to you for all the lost years!” Translation: Compensation is fine, but re-dividing the assets? Don’t think about it. She added softly, “The maid has prepared a guest room. Don’t go back tonight. Stay here.” Guest room. That confirmed it. The warmth was a mirage. In this house, everything belonged to Vanessa. Even the parents’ hearts leaned toward her. It’s 2025, and people are still this cliché? 4 We stayed at the Sterling estate. The guest room was nicer than our rental apartment, I’ll give them that. I lay on the soft mattress, seething with rage until 3 AM. My mom was asleep, her face peaceful in the moonlight. It made the Sterlings’ behavior seem even darker. I decided to read web novels to calm down. I burned through titles like Reborn to Slap the Fake Heiress, The Real Daughter Returns, and Family Crematorium. After reading hundreds of them, I had a question: What do you do when the fake heiress has already won, got the money, married the guy, and had the kid? The books had no answer. The author of my life gave me a hard problem. Suddenly, I felt thirsty. I crept out of the room for water. Bella appeared in the hallway, wearing a white dress. I thought I saw a ghost. She held a glass of water, looking prepared. “Why did you come back? Why are you trying to steal my grandparents…” Her face twisted. “They’re mine! You and your mom should have died in the gutter. Why did you come back?!” “Go die! Just die!” Before I could react, she threw the water onto her own face. Then, she threw herself backward. The glass shattered on the floor. She planted her hands onto the shards, slicing her palm open. Blood dripped onto the white porcelain. Instantly, the villa lit up. Footsteps thundered toward us. My heart hammered. Bella lay on the floor, screaming at me. “Sister! Mommy and I didn’t mean to steal your things! Don’t hit me! I’ll give you everything, just don’t kick us out! Mommy loves Grandma and Grandpa, I love them too…” She lay pale-faced in Vanessa’s arms, her bloody hand clutching Mrs. Sterling’s sleeve. No one believes a ten-year-old would lie about this. Wow. Just wow. The “manipulative victim” gene is hereditary, and apparently, it gets stronger with each generation. “Harper…” I turned around. My mom stood there, face pale, looking like she might faint.

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Five years after my sister Celeste handed me to traffickers, I escaped, starving. Spotting smashed cake on the sidewalk, I scooped a handful into my mouth. Before I could swallow, a brutal kick sent me sprawling. “Aidan! Must you ruin Jackson’s birthday?” Celeste, the billionaire heiress, glared down at me, fresh from throwing a multi-million dollar party for the boy she raised as our brother. Her voice was ice. “See how hard life is? This is what you deserve.” “Your five-year exile ends next month. I’ll bring you home and give you the best life—on one condition: never harm Jackson again.” Blinking through blurred vision, I let out a hollow laugh. Her face had always been indistinct, a mere source of pain. “I won’t,” I murmured. She needn’t worry about Jackson anymore. And I wouldn’t be going home. With terminal brain cancer, living another month was a luxury I couldn’t afford. … I choked down the bitter mouthful of cake. I knew she couldn’t stand the sight of me, so I scrambled to my feet, trying to get my lame leg under me, wanting only to disappear. But the cancer had spread to my optic nerves, and the world was a murky haze. I had to bend low, my hands sweeping the ground in front of me as I shuffled forward. A burst of laughter echoed from behind me. It was Celeste’s friends. “God, he’s really laying it on thick with the whole crippled beggar act. Anything to make Celeste feel sorry for him and take him home early.” “It’s pathetic. He has no shame, doing this in public.” “Seriously. Celeste is a titan of industry. He’s such an embarrassment to her.” I could feel the heat of Celeste’s humiliation, even from a distance. Her voice, when it came, was low and seething with rage. “Aidan, I said one month. Not a day less. Don’t even think about it.” She added, her voice dripping with scorn, “Besides, I paid them to treat you well. You might have had it a little rough, but there’s no way you’d end up like this. Your act is disgusting.” I froze. Treat me well? The memories, sharp and jagged, tore through my mind. But I just shook my head, a faint smile on my lips, and kept moving. I’d only taken a few steps when someone blocked my path. “Aidan, wait!” The voice was familiar. Even without seeing his face, I knew it was Jackson. He pressed a perfect, untouched slice of cake into my hand. Then he took both of my hands in his, his smile as soft as his grip was cruel, his fingernails digging deep into my flesh. “It’s my birthday, so I forgive you for everything that happened,” he said, his voice a sweet poison. “I just hope that when you come home, we can finally get along.” The kinder his smile, the deeper his nails sank, until I felt the warm trickle of blood. But I didn’t cry out. No one would care. No one would believe me. I just took the cake, my only thought to get away from them, to hoard what little time I had left. Back in my makeshift bed under the bridge, I fumbled for the nearly-expired painkillers, swallowing a handful to dull the throbbing in my head. A bitter wind howled through the concrete archway, and I pulled my thin, threadbare shirt tighter around my skeletal frame. Just then, a large van pulled up. A loudspeaker blared to life. “With the sudden drop in temperature, our own Ms. Blackwood is here to share some warmth! Come and get your winter coats and blankets!” A spark of life ignited in the eyes of the dozens of homeless people huddled under the bridge. They scrambled to form a line. My head pounded, but I dragged myself to the very end of it. When my turn finally came, the volunteer looked at me, then down at a photo on his phone. He waved a dismissive hand. “Sorry. Ms. Blackwood gave specific instructions. Nothing for you.” He sneered, his lip curling in disgust. “She’s a famous philanthropist, a living saint. She helps every down-and-out person she can. You must be a special kind of scum for her to single you out like this.” I pressed my lips together. I had expected it, but the absurdity still made me want to laugh. Celeste Blackwood, winner of the Global Philanthropist of the Year award. The woman who, out of the goodness of her heart, had kept Jackson in the lap of luxury even after discovering he wasn’t her real brother. The woman who donated millions to charities across the globe, earning endless praise for her kindness. But she wouldn’t spare a single life-saving blanket for her own flesh and blood. The cold was too intense to sleep, so I decided to move around, to try and generate some warmth. As I stood up, I saw him: a small boy, his mouth covered by the hand of a large, burly man who was dragging him away. I knew that scene. I knew that man. He was a trafficker. Without thinking, ignoring the searing pain in my skull, I lunged forward and sank my teeth into the man’s wrist, tasting blood. I kicked and punched with all my might, but my illness had wasted me away to skin and bones. He was too strong. He saved the boy, but it cost me a broken rib. Somehow, I barely felt the pain. I just looked at the boy, safe and sound, and started to laugh. The laughter turned to sobs, tears streaming down my face. No one, no one, knew better than me which was worse: being a beggar, or being one of the trafficked. Five years ago, on Jackson’s birthday. It had all started with a single, tearful lie from him. “Celeste! Aidan called me a fake! He said I stole his life, and he was going to sell me to traffickers!” Just then, the security guards dragged a shifty-looking man out of the gardens. He swore up and down that I had paid him to kidnap Jackson. I tried to deny it, but Celeste wouldn’t listen. Her eyes were red with fury as she struck me across the face, the sound echoing in the cavernous hall. “I thought if I spoiled you enough, I could erase the bad habits you picked up. But I just made you more vicious, more cruel!” she screamed. “Before Mom and Dad died, I promised them I’d raise you right. If kindness won’t work, then you’ll have to learn the hard way!” On the first day after she gave me to them, they broke my leg and sold me to a sweatshop. I’d often work for two days straight with nothing to eat. They even sold me to a traveling circus, where I was kept in a cage, an animal for the crowds to gawk at. I was less than a dog. Once, I managed to steal a phone and call her, crying, begging her to take me home. Her voice was unyielding. “I promised Jackson you’d suffer for five full years. That’s the only way to break your spirit so you’ll never dare to bully him again.” Jackson. Always Jackson. From the very first day she brought me home from the orphanage, he had framed me, time and time again. And every time, she took his side. In her eyes, I became a monster. After that call, I shattered. I never again dared to hope for the love I had lost. I just became numb, letting them do whatever they wanted to me. Until one night, the crate they kept me in was left unlocked. I tumbled out and rolled down a hillside to freedom. Terrified of being caught, I never tried to find work, never showed my face. I begged, collected bottles, and scraped together just enough money to see a doctor about my old injuries. That was when they found the cancer. Terminal. The little boy I’d saved gently touched my face, wiping away my tears. He draped half of his new, thick blanket over my shoulders, and we huddled together for warmth. Suddenly, a massive screen on a skyscraper across the river lit up with the evening news. “Billionaire Celeste Blackwood purchases a one-hundred-million-dollar estate in a premier European country for her brother! A true philanthropist whose kindness continues to fuel her incredible success!” The little boy stared at the mansion on the screen, then looked up at me with innocent eyes. “Mister, does everyone get to have a home? I hope you and I both get a home someday.” I froze. A home? The orphanage had been a home for all of us kids. When I was found, the Blackwood mansion was Jackson’s home. And now, with my life ticking away, all I wanted was a place that was truly my own, even in death. So I started working. Day and night, I collected recyclables, sold scrap, did any odd job I could find, no matter how grueling. I finally saved enough for a deposit on a small burial plot. My body was failing. There were whole days I’d drift in and out of consciousness. I knew I could die at any moment, and I still owed the final payment on my grave. As I was despairing, a woman on the street handed me a flyer. “Check this out. A mystery CEO is hosting a yacht party tonight. They’re hiring people to shine shoes for the rich ladies. Easy work, pays a few hundred for the night.” She winked. “And the best part? Some of those rich folks tip, and they tip big.” She held up four fingers. I looked at her hand, then took the flyer. At this point, any paying work was a blessing. I boarded a bus with the other workers and was taken to the marina. From the moment I stepped onto that gleaming yacht, I was on my knees. I knelt by the entrance, shining an endless parade of expensive shoes. The woman hadn’t been lying. Some of the wealthy guests would carelessly toss a tip my way that was more than I’d made in a month. I lost track of time until a sudden cheer went up from the crowd. “Here he is! The man of the hour!” I kept my head down, reaching for the next pair of shoes, but a polished loafer kicked the rag from my hand. A familiar voice sneered down at me. “Aidan! God, you are pathetic. Is there any degrading stunt you won’t pull to get my attention?” It was Celeste. “You have three days left. Couldn’t you even wait that long?” I looked up and finally understood. This was a party she was throwing for Jackson. She was glaring at me, her face a mask of shame and fury. Her fists were clenched, but in the end, she just spat a curse under her breath and stormed inside. The sounds of celebration drifted out from the main deck. I just sat there, counting the crumpled bills in my hand. It was just enough. I had just enough for the final payment. I quickly called the cemetery director. But as I gave him my information, he sounded confused. “Aidan Blackwood? I’m sorry, I can’t find you in the system. Your legal identity has been voided. You can’t make the purchase.” “What? That’s impossible! Did you spell it right? Can you please check again?” The man, hearing the frantic desperation in my voice, kindly made a few inquiries. He came back on the line a moment later, his voice soft with pity. “The records office says your identity was legally dissolved by a compulsory order… filed by the billionaire, Celeste Blackwood.” The phone slipped from my numb fingers and clattered onto the deck. My eyes burned. Why? Why couldn’t she even let me die in peace? Was she really so determined to protect Jackson that she would erase my very existence? A roar filled my ears. I stumbled to my feet and burst into the party. “Celeste!” The music screeched to a halt. Every head turned. “Why did you do it? Why did you erase me?” I screamed, my voice raw. “Don’t I even have the right to exist?” Celeste slowly swirled the wine in her glass, her expression unreadable. “You’re capable of any despicable trick to make me feel sorry for you. Who knows what you’d do to Jackson once you were back in the house? If you have no legal identity, you’re powerless.” She took a sip. “But don’t worry. I’m still your sister. I’ll take care of you. I’ll keep you safe for the rest of your life.” A hysterical laugh bubbled up from my chest. Keep me safe? She was the one killing me. Jackson, ever the dutiful son, gently patted her back. He glanced at the money I was still clutching. “Aidan, why do you insist on doing these… degrading things? Is there anything Celeste wouldn’t give you? If you hadn’t broken her heart and embarrassed her, she wouldn’t have had to do this.” He walked over, snatched the cash from my hand, and with a theatrical flourish, scattered it into the wind. I was too stunned to react. I reached out, my fingers grasping at the air as my life’s savings, my final dignity, fluttered down into the dark ocean, instantly soaked and lost. Jackson smiled, as if he had just performed a great act of charity. “This dirty money, it’s not fit for anything. Let’s return it to nature. Maybe it will purify you a little, too.” I stared, empty-eyed, at the dark water. He could enjoy the life Celeste gave him without a second thought, but the money I earned with my own two hands was “dirty.” His smug, condescending laugh echoed in my ears, and something inside me finally snapped. I spun around, my fist raised. “That was mine! You had no right—” Before my hand could even get close, Jackson threw himself backward, tumbling over the railing and into the sea. Celeste’s eyes went wide with terror. Without a moment’s hesitation, she dove in after him. A moment later, she was hauling him back onto the deck, frantically calling for an ambulance while performing CPR. Finally, Jackson coughed up a lungful of seawater, his eyes fluttering open. “Aidan,” he whispered, his voice weak and full of false sorrow. “I was only trying to fix things between you and Celeste… why… why did you have to try and kill me?” “Celeste, I see it now. He’ll never accept me. If it’s a choice between me leaving or me dying… please, just let me go.” Celeste looked like her heart was being ripped from her chest. She shot to her feet and, turning on me, slapped me so hard my head snapped to the side. “Aidan! Have you learned nothing in five years?” she shrieked, her voice filled with a pain that was all for him. “Pulling pathetic stunts to get my attention is one thing, but how dare you try to harm Jackson?” “No,” I whispered, shaking my head, helpless and dazed. “It wasn’t me…” But the look in her eyes was the same as it had always been. A wall of disappointment and disgust. I should have known. When it came to Jackson, she would never, ever believe me. My cheek burned, the words of my defense dying in my throat. But then, a strange impulse took over, and I looked at Celeste, my voice barely a whisper. “If I died, you’d be happy, wouldn’t you?” She heard me. A cold sneer twisted her lips. “If you really died, I’d pop champagne to celebrate.” I stood frozen as the world around me dissolved into a blurry tableau of people fussing over Jackson. I was an island in a sea of their concern, utterly alone. I lowered my head. “Then you’ll get your wish soon…” I murmured. She didn’t hear me clearly and turned to ask what I’d said, but all she saw was my lonely, limping figure disappearing into the shadows. A strange, unsettling feeling pricked at Celeste’s heart, but it was quickly forgotten as Jackson pulled her back into his world with a sweet chorus of “Celeste.” To make up for Jackson’s “ordeal,” the yacht party was extended for another week. I couldn’t get off the boat. I found a dark corner and curled into a ball, the sounds of their laughter and music lulling me into a deep, final sleep. … A week later, after much hesitation, Celeste decided it was time to bring Aidan home. She would have a real talk with him, set things straight. But as she was making the arrangements, her phone rang. It was the yacht’s cleaning crew supervisor, his voice trembling uncontrollably. “Ms. Blackwood, the… the boy who was shining shoes… he’s dead. We just found him. He’s… he’s been here for a while.” The expression on Celeste’s face froze. The phone slipped from her grasp, and she barely caught it. It took a long moment for her to command her voice, to force a semblance of calm. “Which boy? There were dozens of workers. Be specific.” She had heard him. “The boy who was shining shoes.” And she knew. She knew Aidan was the only one. But maybe… maybe the cleaner was mistaken. The voice on the other end, holding back a gag, said, “He’s young… but the body is… it’s hard to tell what he looked like. But… he’s wearing a silver locket. It’s engraved with the letter ‘B’…”

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My wife and I were escorting top-secret research data back to the States. But as we were about to board the plane, she told me she’d left an important file back at the hotel and that I should go on ahead. I smiled and watched her get into a cab, then turned and opened the location sharing app on my phone. She wasn’t going back to the hotel. She had changed her route and was heading to a villa in the suburbs. I hailed a cab and followed her. Standing at the gate of the villa was a man, holding a child. “Honey, you’re finally back,” he said. “Your daughter and I missed you so much.” Sarah took the child from him, then stood on her toes and pressed a long, deep kiss to his lips. “I missed you guys like crazy,” she said. “Home is wherever you two are.” Just then, I got a call from Homeland Security, asking why I hadn’t boarded the plane on time. I looked at the couple embracing not far from me, and my voice was cold as ice. “Because Dr. Sarah Chen, Deputy Director of the Advanced Satellite Research Institute, is colluding with foreign agents and selling state secrets.” “I’m requesting immediate military assistance to apprehend her.” 1. Not long after I hung up, Sarah’s phone rang. I don’t know what was said, but the smile vanished from her face, replaced by a flicker of panic. She quickly handed the child back to the man, whose name was Evan, and rushed to leave. Evan, confused, grabbed her hand. “Honey, where are you going? I thought you were spending the night with me and our daughter.” But Sarah was in no mood to explain. She shook him off and got in her car, speeding back to the airport. When she found out that I hadn’t boarded the plane either, she started calling me frantically. I ignored her calls. Instead, I sat ramrod straight, facing two agents from Homeland Security. The lead agent, a man named Miller, looked at me sternly. “Mr. Zhang, the allegations you’re making are extremely serious. If they’re found to be false, you will face legal consequences.” I nodded, my expression grim. “Agent Miller,” I said, my voice steady, “I stand by every word. My wife, Sarah, and I were tasked with one mission: to bring this core technology back to the U.S. One night, I forgot to shut down my laptop. The webcam happened to record her putting a sleeping pill in my milk. After I was asleep, she snuck out of the hotel.” “That’s how I found out she’d been leaving every night, going to the suburbs, and not coming back until dawn.” I placed a flash drive on the table. “This contains the video from my laptop and a record of Sarah’s movements every night after she left the hotel.” Miller exchanged a look with the other agent. “So, is the core technology in her possession right now?” I nodded, then shook my head. “To prevent a security breach, we each took half of the data. I can guarantee that no one but me has seen my half. But I can’t say the same for Sarah.” Miller’s breath hitched. He grabbed the flash drive and stood up. “Mr. Zhang, we need to verify the information and evidence you’ve provided. In the meantime, you cannot leave this room. I hope you understand.” I nodded calmly. Back at the airport, Sarah was in a full-blown panic. She couldn’t reach me. She decided to go back to the hotel to find me. But as she stepped out of the terminal, she was surrounded by a dozen heavily armed tactical officers. The black muzzles of their rifles were all aimed at her head. The color drained from her face, and she nearly collapsed. “Dr. Sarah Chen? You need to come with us.” Before she could speak, two officers had her arms pinned behind her back, and she was being bundled into an armored vehicle. She was taken back to the embassy. I turned my head just in time to lock eyes with her. Her pupils contracted. Then she let out a furious roar. “Alex! What the hell is wrong with you?” “I’m your wife! How could you do this to me?” I said nothing, just stared at her with cold indifference. My wife? Half an hour ago, she was kissing another man, calling him her husband. If she truly considered me her husband, she wouldn’t have gone abroad while I was on a classified research assignment and given birth to her lover’s child. Whether she was actually selling state secrets didn’t matter to me. All I knew was that I wanted revenge for the humiliation she had put me through. The game was on. 2. It took less than thirty minutes for Miller to find Evan, and to discover that Sarah had borne him an illegitimate daughter. Miller returned with a file and sat down across from me again. “Mr. Zhang, how much do you know about your wife’s affair? Are you reporting her as an act of revenge?” His eyes were sharp, probing. I tightened my grip on my teacup, but my expression remained calm, my voice even. “I did know about the affair. But I would never jeopardize my career for revenge.” “I discovered something was wrong while I was gathering evidence of her infidelity.” “What was wrong?” “Her lover is a foreign national, with deep overseas connections.” Of course, I hadn’t discovered this myself. Evan, in a fit of arrogant provocation, had told me himself. His sudden appearance in my life had shattered all my illusions about love and family. Miller’s brow furrowed. “And based on that alone, you concluded she was colluding with foreign agents and selling state secrets?” My eyes reddened, and a tremor entered my voice, a carefully crafted mix of grief and pain. “Agent Miller, I didn’t want to air my dirty laundry, but with national security at stake, I couldn’t keep silent.” “Everyone thinks Sarah had a miscarriage. But the truth is, I saw their chat logs. She intentionally aborted my child for her lover. Then, while I was away on assignment, she went abroad to be with him and gave birth to their daughter.” My story was a mix of truth and lies. I had seen their chat logs, but by then, she had already miscarried. I said what I said to focus their attention on those messages. As I expected, Miller immediately asked, “What was in the chat logs?” “Besides the usual lover’s talk, he was constantly asking her about her work.” I paused for effect. “My maternal grandfather was the first director of the NSA, and my paternal grandfather also worked for the agency. Growing up around them, I’ve become sensitive to certain things.” Miller looked at me with surprise. This was my trump card. With my family’s legacy backing me up, who would dare question my motives? When Miller spoke again, his tone was much more respectful. “Mr. Zhang, rest assured, we will investigate this thoroughly. We will not wrongly accuse an innocent person, but we will not let a guilty one go free, especially not one who threatens the security of our nation.” I nodded and added a subtle hint. “Sarah has probably deleted the chat logs, but she has an encrypted folder that even I can’t access. You might find what you’re looking for in there.” Not long after Miller left, there was another commotion outside the conference room. Evan had been “invited” to the embassy for a little chat. His eyes were wide with terror. When he saw me, he lunged, a wild look on his face. The tactical officers restrained him, but he kept screaming at me. “Alex, you bastard! What have you done to us?” A smirk played on my lips. “Nothing. I’m just returning the favor. For what you and Sarah did to me. And to my child.” “Oh, and by the way, didn’t she say that home is wherever you are? I’m just helping to make that a reality for you.” The color drained from Evan’s face. It took him a moment to find his voice, and when he did, it was a shriek. “You monster!” “No wonder no one loves you!” “No wonder Sarah couldn’t even stand to have you touch her!” A month ago, his words would have cut me to the quick. But now, the more they raged, the more pleased I was. It meant they were scared.

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After the car accident that stole my memories, I often woke up screaming. My fiancé, overwhelmed and needing to manage his business empire, had his identical twin brother take his place to comfort me back to sleep. One night, confused and needy, I clung to the man beside me—cold, elegant, and distant—and tilted my head up for a kiss. He pushed me away without hesitation. “You said you’d help me find my memories,” I whispered, my eyes rimmed with red, tears threatening to spill. “Or do you just hate that… I only remember this?” The man gritted his teeth, a muscle jumping in his jaw, before finally pulling me close, his arm wrapping around my waist. But he took his role too seriously. He carried me around the villa, “searching for memories” in every room. Three days later, sobbing and exhausted, I begged him to stop the “treatment.” He just smoothed my hair, his voice gentle but his actions relentless. “Hush now. Think harder.” Half a month later, my fiancé returned from overseas and walked in on our “therapy session.” His eyes went bloodshot instantly. He exploded. “I never even touched her! How the hell does she have memories of that?!” 1 “What do we do?! Is she… is she still alive?” The woman’s voice was shrill with panic. “She’s breathing. Don’t worry. I’ll handle this,” the man beside her said, his voice low and steady. “But… she saw us.” “It’s fine. She listens to me. You need to leave. Now. You were never here today, understand?” I lay on the cold pavement, blood pooling in my mouth, every inch of my body screaming in agony. Through my blurred vision, I saw a pair of high heels and dress shoes just a few feet away. “Julian… help me…” My voice was a broken rasp. It hurt so much. Someone, please save me… 2 I woke up gasping, my back soaked in cold sweat. I reached out to the other side of the bed. It was empty and cold. A while ago, I was in a severe car accident. My fiancé, Julian Sterling, told me it was the work of a business rival he had crushed during his company’s expansion. To get back at the Sterling Group, they targeted me, his high-profile fiancée. I survived, but I lost pieces of myself. Pieces of my memory. I didn’t remember the accident at all. The doctor said I had a blood clot in my brain. Because of a congenital heart condition, brain surgery was too risky. They suggested conservative treatment, letting the clot dissolve over time. Hearing about my amnesia, Julian’s brow surprisingly smoothed out. He gently assured me that whether I remembered or not, our wedding would proceed as planned. To take better care of me, he moved me into the family estate until our “Wedding of the Century” next month. Lately, the nightmares were relentless. Julian moved his work into the master bedroom, soothing me to sleep every night. So where was he now? I got up and went downstairs for water. Hushed, angry voices drifted from the first floor. “Just for two weeks. You pretend to be me, comfort her until she falls asleep. Once she’s out, you’re done. Do this, and you can pick any position you want at HQ.” “Bro, are you insane?” “She doesn’t remember a thing about the crash. But Chloe is still terrified. I need to go to her, make sure she’s okay.” “Are you even human? Who’s your fiancée? If it wasn’t for—” “You can say no. I’ll kick Sarah out tomorrow, cancel the wedding, and take Chloe abroad.” “The doctor said she can’t take any more shocks! You already cost her her memory, now you want her life? She loves you…” “What, you got a problem? You like her?” “…Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t lack women. But she’s my future sister-in-law. We grew up together…” “Relax. Mom and Dad only accept Sarah. I’ll marry her. But I owe Chloe and the kid an explanation.” “If she wasn’t so obsessed with you, I’d kill you myself.” “Stop acting like a saint, Adrian. Who cleans up your messes? Just play the part. Don’t blow my cover.” I stood in the shadows where the moonlight couldn’t reach, shaking uncontrollably. While they were still arguing, I dragged myself back to the room like a zombie. Curled up under the cold duvet, fragments of that day two weeks ago started piecing themselves together. My heart seized painfully. My head buzzed. I clutched my chest, tears soaking the pillow. No dreams tonight. I remembered everything. 3 The next morning, I got up and washed my face as usual. The butler informed me that the Young Master and the Second Master were having breakfast downstairs. I carefully applied a “no-makeup” makeup look and went down in my silk nightgown. Two tall men sat at the long table, murmuring. They turned simultaneously as I approached. Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating them like movie stars. They inherited their supermodel mother’s striking features and towering height. It was unfair that the world had two faces this perfect. They were so identical that even their teachers used to mix them up. As they grew older, their personalities diverged, and they dressed differently to avoid confusion. Unless they wanted you confused. The older one, Julian Sterling, was my fiancé, the ruthless CEO of Sterling Group. Cold, noble, always in control. The younger one, Adrian Sterling, was the wild child. Pampered, reckless, eyes full of mischief. The playboy of the city. I stood on the stairs, amusedly observing the swap. Adrian, pretending to be his brother, had slicked back his hair and wore rimless glasses to hide the mole near his eye. Julian wore his brother’s casual shirt, top buttons undone, hair messy, a smirk pasted on his face. Target acquired. I ran barefoot and threw myself into Adrian’s arms, landing squarely on his lap. “Julian! How could you leave me alone?” I sobbed, tears welling up perfectly in my eyes. The muscles beneath me tensed instantly. His chest heaved against my cheek. A warning cough came from behind us. “Morning, sister-in-law.” A deep voice laced with suppressed anger reminded me of his presence. “Oh! Adrian’s here too!” I blushed, playfully hitting my fake fiancé’s chest. “Why didn’t you tell me your brother was coming!” Through the thin silk of my nightgown, I wiggled against the man, feeling his breathing grow erratic. Crash. A cup shattered. Coffee pooled on the floor. “Sorry. Slipped,” Julian said, staring at the broken pieces of my favorite mug. He shoved his chair back and dragged his brother outside for a “talk.” Watching the tense standoff on the terrace, I asked the butler for a new set of cutlery and started eating leisurely. The show was just beginning. 4 Because the wedding was approaching, I claimed I couldn’t sleep without Julian. So, for an overseas project that required his personal attention, his brother Adrian would “go in his place.” But I knew the truth. Julian was leaving. Adrian was staying. At noon, Adrian and I saw Julian off at the airport. “Why aren’t you driving the new car I gave you?” I asked the fake Adrian. Julian panicked for a split second before smoothly lying, “Sister-in-law, a valet scratched it when I went drinking the other night. It’s in the shop. My bad, didn’t know it was a gift from you.” “Oh, as long as you’re safe,” I replied sweetly. So, he’d already disposed of the car involved in the accident. And the evidence. Hearing my fiancé call me “sister-in-law” with a straight face while pretending to be his brother… I almost laughed out loud. This play required all three of us to be Oscar-worthy. … In the VIP lounge. While the brothers whispered in a corner, I got up to buy coffee. Turning around with my cup, I bumped into a woman rushing past. Hot coffee splashed onto her designer coat. I started to apologize, but she acted like a frightened bird, waving her hands and saying “it’s fine” before disappearing into the crowd. The boarding announcement played. “Safe flight.” I held Adrian’s hand as we watched his brother board. Julian gave our joined hands a dark look before smirking threateningly. “Bro, take good care of your sister-in-law.” “Yeah. Don’t worry about it.” Once Julian was gone, I clung to Adrian’s arm, giggling into my hand. “Adrian really needs to practice. He was so nervous he called me ‘your’ sister-in-law instead of ‘my’ sister-in-law.” The muscles under my hand tightened. He patted my head. “Ignore the idiot. Let’s go home.” “Okay.” On the way back, my private investigator sent me photos and videos. After we left, Julian didn’t board his flight. He went to the international terminal to meet someone. A petite woman huddled into his coat. They hugged and kissed openly in the terminal. Julian took off his disguise, put his glasses back on, and with his arm around her, boarded a flight to Paris. The woman was the one I bumped into. In the photos, she took off her mask and sunglasses. I’d recognize that face anywhere. The first bridesmaid on my list. My best friend of ten years, Chloe.

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Every year on the day SAT scores are released, the top scorer in our state dies by suicide. The higher the score, the more gruesome the death. The police formed a task force, but they came up with nothing. The top students in the state are terrified. They’ve started intentionally tanking their exams, afraid of becoming the valedictorian. I was the only one who studied harder. In the end, I achieved a perfect score of 1600, becoming the highest-scoring valedictorian in history. Why? Because my brother was the valedictorian three years ago. I watched him die a horrific death right in front of me. I will avenge him. 1 My mom died the year I was born. My dad raised my brother and me alone. He worked every dirty, exhausting job he could find just so we wouldn’t have to suffer. Over the years, women admired his work ethic and offered to start a new family with him. But Dad refused them all, afraid a stepmother would mistreat us. Because we saw how hard he worked, my brother and I studied relentlessly, desperate to give him a better life. Three years ago, my brother took the SATs. By then, the rumors about the valedictorian curse were already widespread. Every top student was anxious, terrified of ranking first. I begged my brother to hold back, to lower his score just enough to stay safe. But he just looked at me and said: “I’ve worked hard for years to get a good score, to give you and Dad a better life. I won’t tank my score, and I certainly won’t kill myself.” “Besides, those suicides have to be coincidences. This time, I’m going to break the curse.” He kept his word. With a score of 1580, he became that year’s state valedictorian. But the brother who swore he would never commit suicide jumped from the roof on the day the scores came out. He didn’t say a word before he died. He just looked deeply at our father, then leaped. He landed headfirst. It was gruesome. In his hand, he clutched a bloodstained note with a single sentence: “Brother, never become the valedictorian.” As I held his broken body and screamed in agony, my father, who had always doted on him, stood silently by. He didn’t shed a single tear. I asked him why. He looked at me with cold, dead eyes and said, “He chose to be the valedictorian. He has no one to blame but himself.” I couldn’t understand. My dad used to cry if my brother even had a fever. Why was he so indifferent watching him die? Remembering the look my brother gave him before he jumped… I couldn’t shake the feeling that my father was involved. But why? What reason could he possibly have? My brother loved life. Why would he suddenly kill himself? Harboring these doubts, I studied bitterly for three years. Just for this one exam. This time, I’m using myself as bait. I will find the truth. 2 On the day the scores were released. I looked at my dad, who was cooking in the kitchen. “Dad, if I die, will you cry?” His hand paused while washing the rice. He turned to look at me, confusion in his eyes. “Why are you asking that?” I paused for two seconds, then said seriously: “I’ve checked the answers.” “Unless something went wrong, I should be this year’s state valedictorian.” The light in his eyes vanished instantly. A second later, he said flatly, “Oh. Congratulations.” Two words. Short and calm. Like we were discussing the weather. No emotion at all. I stared at him, searching for a crack in his mask. But he acted like nothing happened, turning back to wash the rice. The morning light reflected in his cold eyes, stinging my heart. I remembered when I was five, I had a sudden seizure and a high fever during a blizzard. In sub-zero temperatures, with no taxis running, my dad carried me on his back and ran six miles through the snow to the hospital. When we arrived, he was purple with cold, his feet bloody from the ice. But he didn’t seem to feel the pain. He just begged the doctors to save me. They said it was hopeless. But my proud father knelt at the ER entrance, banging his head on the floor, crying and begging them to try again. I don’t understand. Growing up, he valued my brother and me more than his own life. Why is he so cold about this? I didn’t say anything else. I just waited for the score. In the end, as expected, I got a perfect 1600. The highest-scoring valedictorian in history. The score shocked the state and blew up the internet. From reality to online forums, everyone was debating it: “Is he crazy? Everyone else is scared to death, tanking their scores, and he gets a perfect score? Doesn’t he know about the curse?” “I’m his classmate. His brother was the valedictorian three years ago! He died horribly! There’s no way he doesn’t know!” “Then why? Is he suicidal?” “I heard his dad raised them alone, working multiple jobs. His brother died three years ago, and now this… how will his dad survive losing him too?” Some were shocked by my score. Some pitied my father. Others called me selfish for courting death when I knew the consequences. Meanwhile, I locked my bedroom door and started a livestream. 3 I set up the camera to capture the entire room. As soon as the stream started, it went viral. Within minutes, millions of viewers flooded in. The comments were scrolling so fast I could barely read them. “This is the perfect score valedictorian? He doesn’t look scared at all.” “Streaming at a time like this? Kid’s got nerves of steel.” “Streamer, did you think about your dad when you got that score?” “Your dad worked his life away for you boys. He already lost your brother. If you die, how will he live?” “So unfilial. Is a test score more important than your lives?” Most people were condemning me. Calling me selfish, ungrateful. Pitying my father. Amidst the backlash, I started speaking slowly, like I was telling a story: “As you all know, my dad raised my brother and me alone. It wasn’t easy.” “We suffered, we struggled. Every day was a fight for survival.” “But my brother was always optimistic. He taught me to cherish life, to keep living.” “He said as long as we’re alive, things will get better.” “He swore he would use his own efforts to give Dad and me a good life.” “But three years ago, he killed himself.” I held up my brother’s suicide note. Facing the camera, I said word by word: “This is the note my brother held when he jumped.” “It has one sentence: ‘Brother, never become the valedictorian.’” “I have treasured this note for three years.” “And I have studied it for three years.” “The handwriting is identical to my brother’s.” “The police confirmed only his fingerprints were on it.” “But I am certain he didn’t write it.” “Someone forged his handwriting and left this note.” “To cover up the fact that his death wasn’t a suicide.” “He was murdered.” 4 The chat exploded. Question marks flooded the screen. “For real? I thought all the valedictorians committed suicide?” “If the handwriting is identical, how can you be sure?” “I was there that day! I saw him jump! No one pushed him!” “Are you delusional?” Shock, doubt, denial. I continued over the noise: “Because whether in life or in letters, my brother never called me ‘Brother.’ He only ever used my nickname.” “He did jump. But he was forced to.” “For three years, I’ve investigated the deaths of every other valedictorian.” “I can tell you with certainty: every single one was suspicious.” “This is a massive lie.” “They were all murdered!” The chat went wilder. “Holy crap, this is terrifying. I have goosebumps.” “Who? Why? Who could make so many top students kill themselves?” Amidst the shock, I looked straight into the lens, my voice firm: “Even though I know it wasn’t suicide, I could never find proof of murder. The killer is too good at hiding.” “That’s why I did everything I could to become the valedictorian. To uncover the truth. To expose this lie.” “They say the higher the score, the worse the death.” “Today, I’m streaming so you can all witness it.” “Will I die?” My words were sincere, my determination clear. The viewers were shaken. The livestream view count skyrocketed. The whole country was watching. Even the police saw it and dispatched units to my house. As the sirens wailed closer… The chat suddenly unified, screaming one thing: “BEHIND YOU!” “LOOK BEHIND YOU!” “RUN!” I spun around. And saw something I will never forget.

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1 A guy dropped a bomb in the company-wide chat: “I liked a new hire earlier this month, then saw her getting into a luxury car. How do I get over that?” The chat exploded. Everyone pressed for details, but he just wallowed. “Girls have it so easy—just smile, cross their legs, and some fool takes the bait!” “While honest guys eat cheap lunches, those girls are trying too hard to be chic in cafés.” “Why chase rich old men instead of building a life with someone like us?” Finally, he sent a voice message, righteous and angry: “To the gold digger reading this—I looked into that man. He’s married. Don’t you dare wreck a home.” I’d had enough. “That’s slander without proof. Watch your mouth.” He tagged me instantly: “@Stella, I was being nice not naming you. Still acting innocent, gold digger?” I was stunned. He meant me. But what he didn’t know—don’t rich men have daughters too? … While I was still reeling, messages flooded the chat. Liam kept tagging me. “@Stella You had a lot to say a minute ago. What, playing dead now?” “@Stella So what’s it like being a kept woman? How’s it feel to be with an old geezer?” “@Stella Was it good?” The words on the screen made my vision swim with rage. I almost screamed a string of curses right there at my desk. “Who the hell are you?” “Do we even know each other?” The company-wide chat was an unofficial thing HR set up for goofing off, so everyone used screen names. I had no idea who this guy was. “Oh, here we go again with the innocent act. If you don’t know me, why’d you accept my gifts?” Now I was completely lost. I had absolutely no memory of this person. In the month and a half since I’d joined the company, I’d done almost nothing but focus on my projects at my desk. I had practically zero social interaction. Besides, I was engaged, so I naturally kept a certain distance from my male colleagues. I would never just accept a gift from a guy out of the blue. “I think you have the wrong person,” I typed out carefully. “Wrong person? I’d know you even if you were a pile of ash!” “Stella Ross!” My mind went blank, my hands trembling uncontrollably. Chloe, the girl who started on the same day as me, leaned her head over the cubicle divider. A malicious smirk played on her lips. “Stella, I never would’ve guessed you were that kind of person.” She clicked her tongue, her voice dripping with meaning. “You always seem so quiet and harmless. Who knew you were playing such a wild game behind everyone’s back?” “Hey, how do you even meet those rich sugar daddies?” “Come on, tell me!” I forced down my anger and managed a thin smile. “You probably wouldn’t have a chance. I’ve known my ‘sugar daddy’ since the second I was born.” At my words, Chloe’s face instantly darkened. She muttered something about me being a phony and spun back to her own desk. Ignoring her venom, I tagged the guy back in the chat. “Who are you? What gift did I ever take from you? When did I ever become a mistress?” “Do you realize what you’re doing is libel?” “You have ten minutes to apologize, or we can continue this conversation at the police station.” The message had barely gone through when my team lead came rushing over, her face a mask of panic. She snatched my phone out of my hands and quickly deleted my last three messages. “What are you doing?!” “You have the nerve to ask me what I’m doing?!” She slammed my phone down on the desk and poked me hard in the shoulder. “I look away for five minutes, and you cause this much trouble for me!” “Let me ask you, do you even want this job anymore?” Being slandered for no reason and then immediately threatened… even with my usually calm temper, I wasn’t going to take this lying down. “I caused trouble?” “I’m the victim here! I don’t even know who this guy is! He’s…” “He’s Liam Hall! Manager Hall’s son!” my lead cut me off impatiently. “Do you understand me now?” “Now, right now, get in that chat and apologize to Liam.” My brow furrowed. “Who’s Liam Hall?” It wasn’t that I was forgetful. It was that my brain had absolutely no record of anyone by that name. Seeing my blank expression, my lead looked like she was about to explode. “Can you stop playing dumb at a time like this?” “If you don’t know him, why did you take his gifts?” Just then, the chat pinged with new messages. It was Liam, sighing dramatically. “Buy a buddy a round of beers, and he’d die for you!” “Treat our dear Stella to a nice meal, and she calls you a broke loser!” Chloe immediately replied, “She’s too high and mighty for us common folk!” That opened the floodgates. Colleagues I knew, and ones I’d never even spoken to, all started piling on. “Why’d the homewrecker go quiet?” “I’d love to interview Ms. Ross. Aren’t you afraid of getting your ass beat for being a mistress?” “What’s to be afraid of? Didn’t you notice she goes for old guys? The wives are probably old hags who can’t even throw a punch.” My team lead, who was watching this unfold, nudged me again. “Hurry up! Apologize to Liam, and make it sound good.” “If you don’t, I can’t protect your job!” 2 She wasn’t being subtle. The message was clear: if I didn’t bow down and apologize, I was fired. Of course, I didn’t really care about the job. I’d only gotten it because I was bored and needed something to do. But I cared about my reputation. I had done absolutely nothing, yet this person, a total stranger, had slapped me with the labels of “gold digger” and “mistress.” I couldn’t just swallow that. Furious as I was, I forced myself to calm down and took screenshots of every single incriminating message in the chat. Preserving the evidence was just step one. My continued silence in the chat only fueled Liam’s arrogance. He posted a photo of my back as I was getting into a car. It was the Rolls-Royce Ghost my dad had bought over a year ago. “@Stella You said I was lying?” “Then take a look. Who’s this woman?” Chloe quickly replied with a thumbs-up emoji. “I sit right next to Stella. That beige coat is definitely hers.” Other colleagues were getting excited. “So it’s confirmed! We have an office gold digger!” “Looks like it. Notice how she’s not talking anymore?” “Bet she’s about to leave the group.” As they all chattered, Liam tagged me three more times. “@Stella Look, even though you’ve been… used, I’m not a cruel guy. As long as you come back to me, I’ll still take you.” After Liam revealed his identity, a few of his dad’s underlings started kissing up to him. “Damn, that car must be worth millions, right? How rich is that old guy?” “That’s our Liam, always the bigger man!” “I’m telling you, you can’t trust a woman like that! She’ll cheat on you for sure!” “Let her! We’ll see if I don’t beat her to a pulp!” My manager, who was enjoying the show, didn’t forget to nudge me. “Hurry up and apologize to Liam!” I took a deep breath. “That’s my family’s car. My dad was picking me up to go home. Is there a problem with that?” A second later, Liam sent another voice message. He let out a snide little hum. “Your sugar daddy, or your actual daddy?” My manager shot me a glare. “I told you to apologize, didn’t you hear me?” She tried to grab my phone again, but I blocked her with my arm. Behind me, Chloe snickered, covering her mouth. “Stella, I just have one question.” “Does the old guy you’re with… have that old man smell?” The moment she finished speaking, police sirens wailed from downstairs. Everyone’s face changed. My manager stared at me in horror. “You called the police?” I let out a small laugh. “What, you wanted me to just sit here and let them keep making things up?” When the officers arrived, they asked for my basic information before turning on their body cams. With the camera rolling, I showed them the entire chat history, explaining repeatedly that it was all baseless, malicious speculation. After getting the full picture, the police helped me find the infamous Liam Hall. He was still glued to his phone, typing furiously in the group chat. When he saw the officers, a flicker of guilt crossed his face. “What do you guys want?” The police didn’t mince words. “Do you know Stella Ross?” He scoffed and nodded. “Of course. She’s my ex-girlfriend.” I was standing behind the officers, and I couldn’t listen to another second of it. I stormed right up to him. “Liam Hall, what the hell are you talking about?” “I don’t even know you! How can you lie like this in front of the…” My words caught in my throat. I stopped. Because the man standing in front of me… I didn’t just know him. He was very, very familiar. 3 “It’s you?” The words tumbled out of my mouth, catching even the police officers off guard. “You two know each other?” Liam’s eyes widened with a desperate eagerness. “Of course, we know each other!” He walked over and casually slung an arm around my shoulder. “Right?” I shoved him off, disgusted. “No!” “He’s harassed me before. Does that count as knowing him, officer?” When I first joined the company, Liam was a security guard at the front desk. Out of basic politeness, I’d say hello to him every time I came in. But a while back, I left work early and happened to overhear him bragging to someone that I had a crush on him. “If she didn’t like me, why would she say hi to me every day?” “Look, I’ll be honest with you. Girls who act all shy on the surface are secretly wild.” “Once I land her, I’ll definitely let you guys have a look.” I almost threw up right then and there. I didn’t even know his name! From that day on, I never said another word to him. But my ignoring him only made him more aggressive. He started popping up everywhere, harassing me. In the cafeteria, he even had the nerve to ask me to buy him lunch. After that happened a few times, I lost all my patience and just had my family’s cook prepare my meals, which I brought to work every day. That, of course, earned me the label of “pretentious bitch” from Chloe. Thinking back on it all, my fists clenched. “Officer, he has already slandered me with baseless accusations. I demand that he write a formal letter of apology and post it publicly in the group chat.” It wasn’t an unreasonable request, and the officers seemed to agree. But Liam, having heard the whole thing, was not happy. “What did I slander you about?” “You got into an old man’s car, right? And that man has a wife, right?” His selective twisting of the facts made one of the officers chuckle. “Liam, I suggest you take the easy way out. She’s giving you a chance to save face. If we have to take you down to the station, it won’t look good for you.” That shut him up. He stared at me for a long moment. “Fine, I’ll apologize. But first, you have to give me back the gift I gave you! And you have to reimburse me for all the money I spent on you!” I was at a loss. “What gift did you give me?” “And when did you ever spend money on me?” Liam gave me a look loaded with meaning. “Are you really playing dumb?” “That lollipop! Aren’t you going to give it back?” His words instantly pulled me back into a memory. There was a time when his harassment had gotten so unbearable that I gave him an ultimatum: stop following me during my lunch break. He agreed readily, but with one condition. “I’ll leave you alone, but you have to buy me a coffee from the cafe across the street.” I agreed and handed him a ten-dollar bill. Half an hour later, he found me with a single lollipop. “There was a dollar and fifty cents left over. I couldn’t bear to spend it, so I bought you this candy. See? I’m good to you, right?” I didn’t want to engage with him and was busy with work, so I didn’t reply. The next time I looked, Chloe had already eaten the lollipop. “Also, I spent a total of three hundred and twenty-eight dollars on cafeteria lunches just so I could eat with you. You should pay for that too!” I couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the absurdity. The officers looked both exasperated and amused. Finally, one of them gave Liam a warning. “You can either apologize to her right now, or you can come with us to the station. Your choice.” 4 Liam didn’t dare cross the police. Reluctantly, he posted an apology in the group chat. The few colleagues who had piled on also chimed in with their own apologies. Whether they were sincere or not, at least I felt a little better. But the moment the police left, my team lead informed me, “Manager Hall wants to see you.” As I walked away, she shot me a look of pure schadenfreude. “You pissed off his precious son and you still think you can have a peaceful career here? Dream on.” I ignored her and went into the office alone. It turned out Liam was there too, glaring at me as if I were his mortal enemy. Manager Hall’s expression was just as hostile, though he was better at hiding it. He beckoned me over. “I heard about what happened today. It was Liam’s fault.” “You’ve forgiven him now, haven’t you?” I nodded. Satisfied with my answer, he smiled. Then he pointed to a massive stack of documents on the side of his desk. “Since the personal matter is resolved, let’s get back to business.” “I need you to organize all of this by the end of the day. We need it for the morning meeting tomorrow.” “I can’t finish that.” It was such an obvious attempt to screw me over that I refused without a second thought. Manager Hall didn’t bother wasting any more words. “Can’t finish it, huh?” “Then you can get out.” “Liam, take her to accounting to get her final paycheck.” He was concise, not a single wasted word. I raised an eyebrow. “You want me to get out?” “I don’t think you have the authority to say that.” “I don’t have the authority?” Manager Hall laughed as if I’d told the funniest joke in the world. “Go on, give it a try. See if I have the authority or not.” With that, Liam shoved me out of the office. All the things on my desk had been swept onto the floor. Chloe was dismantling my desk drawer, a triumphant look on her face. “Go on, act high and mighty! Weren’t you so good at pretending?” “Why’d you stop now?” A moment later, a notification popped up on my phone: a formal notice of termination. Since it had come to this, there was nothing left for me to hold on to. As I walked out of the company building, I immediately called my dad. “Dad, that partnership with Apex Corp? Forget it. Let’s go with Horizon Group instead.” Apex Corp, the company I’d just been fired from, was never on my dad’s initial list of potential partners. He was only considering them because I was working there. “Okay, whatever you say.” I didn’t want to worry him, so I didn’t tell him about the day’s awful events. In my mind, the matter was closed the moment I was officially fired. I didn’t want to dwell on it. So when I got home, I took a shower, curled up on the sofa with a glass of red wine, and started binge-watching a show. I was just getting to the good part when Mr. Harrison, the CEO of Apex Corp, called. His voice was cautious. “Is this Ms. Ross?” I hummed in agreement. My dad always listed me as his business contact, no matter how many times I’d protested. “This is a family business. You have to learn how to communicate with people.” Remembering my dad’s words, I straightened my voice. “This is she. Can I help you with something?” His voice was timid, almost deferential. “Ms. Ross, I was just wondering… why did you suddenly decide to pull out of the deal with Apex?” “Is there something we did wrong?” “We can change. We can do whatever you require!” I swirled the wine in my glass. “It’s not because of your company.” He was stunned. “Huh? Then… then what is it?” “It’s because from the top down, some of your people have a serious character problem.” “Your employee, Liam Hall, accused me of being kept by my own father.” 5 After saying my piece, I hung up the phone. He didn’t call back. Instead, a text message came through. “My apologies, Ms. Ross. I had no idea the problem was with one of my own staff. Please rest assured, I will give you a satisfactory resolution to this matter.” Half an hour later, another text arrived. “Ms. Ross, I believe there must be a huge misunderstanding.” “Can we meet at The Oak Room tomorrow evening to discuss this?” “Fine.” After replying, I went back to my show. But then, the company group chat, which I’d forgotten to leave, started buzzing again. “Stella’s gone?” “Whoa, Liam, you’re the man!” “No way, she’s really gone?” “Serves her right. A stuck-up bitch like that needed someone like Liam to put her in her place.” Liam, basking in the praise, was clearly feeling himself. “Honestly, I didn’t want to fire her. She was the only woman I’ve ever truly loved!” “Aww, Liam, you’re so romantic!” “I wish my husband was that devoted.” I didn’t want to see any more of their nonsense, so I simply left the group chat. The moment I did, a wave of relief washed over me. But some people just couldn’t let me be happy. Chloe suddenly sent me a picture of two hands clasped together. “Stella, are you mad?” I was baffled and sent back a question mark. “I know why you called the cops today. It’s because you were jealous.” “I’ll be honest with you, Liam and I are together now.” I stared at her messages, trying to connect the dots. “What are you even talking about?” It wasn’t that I was being difficult; I genuinely didn’t understand her logic. “I was jealous?” “We’re both women, so don’t even try to pretend. I know you called the cops to get Liam’s attention, to make him love you even more!” “But you’re too late. He’s my man now.” Her bizarre reasoning left me speechless. So that explained Chloe’s hostility toward me today. It was as absurd as it was laughable. The next morning, my boyfriend, Alex, came to pick me up. We hadn’t had a proper date since I started my new job. The moment I saw him, I threw myself into his arms. “I missed you so much.” “Alright then. First, breakfast. Then shopping, then lunch, then more shopping.” “Deal. But I have a business dinner tonight.” Alex was understanding. “Got it.” We left my apartment complex and headed straight for my favorite dumpling place. After breakfast, we hit the mall. But of all the bad luck, as I walked into a handbag boutique, I ran into Liam. He was clutching a purse, his voice incredulous as he argued with the sales associate. “You want fifteen thousand for this stupid bag?” “Are you guys broke or just insane?” The sales associate, clearly unused to such a rude customer, was flustered. “Sir, all our prices are clearly marked. If you don’t wish to purchase it, you don’t have to…” His pride wounded in public, Liam exploded. “What the hell did you just say to me?” Seeing the situation escalate, the store manager quickly called for security, who forcibly escorted Liam out. Just as they were dragging him away, his eyes met mine. He shot a venomous glare at me, then at Alex. The hatred in his gaze left me feeling uneasy, and I lost all interest in shopping for a bag. Sensing my mood had soured, Alex suggested we go look at clothes instead, and I agreed. I found a dress I liked and went into the fitting room to try it on. When I stepped out, I found Alex looking grim. “What’s wrong?” He bit his lip and held out his phone. “Do you know this person?” I looked down. It was a picture of Liam’s profile. “I know him… what’s wrong?” As the words left my mouth, all the color drained from Alex’s face. “He… he said you’re pregnant with his child.” “Is it true?”

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I was the kidnapped heiress of the Sterling family. When my biological parents finally found me, I was hawking phone cases, three for ten bucks, at a street market. Looking up at their disdainful faces, a series of comments floated across my vision like a livestream chat: [Here comes the evil stepsister. My poor fake-heiress protagonist just got another bully.] [Boohoo, the protagonist is so tragic. Later she gets locked up by her psycho adopted brother, then tortured by the male lead. She breaks down and jumps off a building.] [It’s a tragedy novel, what can you do? Once she dies, the male lead and the second male lead will regret it forever.] [Exactly. Just endure it for now. The best part is when the guys spend their whole lives repenting.] I stared at the floating text, confused. Regret? Repentance? What use is that? I turned to look at the teary-eyed fake heiress. A man’s hand was reaching out to comfort her shoulder. I suddenly stood up and slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch her.” 1 My action stunned everyone. Mrs. Sterling was the first to react. “Anna, what are you doing? Julian is your biological brother.” According to the DNA report they just handed me, I was indeed their daughter. I didn’t answer. I stared straight at Julian, instinctively shielding the fake heiress, Stella, behind me. Meeting my gaze, Julian adjusted his cuffs to hide his annoyance. He flashed a perfect, practiced smile and introduced himself. “Hello, Anna. I’m your biological brother, Julian.” I ignored his outstretched hand. “First time meeting your sister, shouldn’t you bring a gift?” Julian glanced awkwardly at his parents and coughed lightly. “It was sudden. I didn’t prepare anything. I’ll make it up to you.” “It’s fine. That watch looks nice.” I had been eyeing his Rolex since they arrived. It looked expensive. Julian looked down at his wrist. “It’s a men’s watch…” “I don’t mind.” I cut him off mid-sentence. The floating comments exploded: [The evil sister is so greedy! Asking for a luxury watch before even stepping in the door.] [So petty. Typical poor person mentality, acting like she’s never seen anything good.] [Later she steals the protagonist’s stuff at home too. The author needs to kill her off sooner.] 2 In the end, Julian gave me the watch. I tossed it directly to my buddy, Cole. Cole had been watching over my stall this whole time, his eyes red. “Boss, what am I gonna do if you leave with them?” I grabbed a tissue and wiped his face, disgusted. “Do whatever you need to do. Sell this batch of cases first.” “That watch should be worth a lot. Find a reputable pawn shop and sell it. Don’t get scammed. It should cover your mom’s surgery.” Hearing this, Cole cried even harder. I jumped, slapping the back of his head. “Stop it! People will think I did something to you.” Cole’s sobbing quieted down. I pointed at the Sterlings’ black Bentley. “Your sister is going off to enjoy the good life, not dying.” “When I make it big, I’ll come back for you.” Cole held the watch with both hands, looking like an abandoned puppy, nodding pitifully. I couldn’t help but wipe his tears again before walking towards the Sterlings. Mrs. Sterling looked at Cole with disdain. “Anna, are you close with that hoodlum?” “You’re a Sterling now. Watch your behavior. Those types are trouble.” Mr. Sterling nodded in agreement, telling me to cut ties. I smiled. “Not that close. Just that when my adoptive parents beat me until I was bleeding, Cole and his mom took me to the hospital.” “Otherwise, I’d probably be dead.” Silence fell instantly. The Sterlings exchanged awkward glances and ushered us into the car. Sensing Stella didn’t want to sit next to Julian, I took the middle seat in the back. Julian glanced at me but said nothing. The comments went wild: [Here it comes! The evil sister is starting to compete for favor.] [I’m scared to watch. The protagonist gets bullied so badly later. Her adoptive parents mistreat her too.] [That’s why the second male lead brainwashes her into thinking she’s unlovable. It’s all the evil sister’s fault.] [Wait, Stella was adopted after Anna was kidnapped. Anna’s tragedy has nothing to do with her. Why blame Stella?] [I feel like Anna was helping Stella just now? Stella clearly didn’t want to sit near Julian.] [Also, Anna took the watch to pay for her friend’s mom’s surgery. are you guys blind?] [Whatever. She hurts Stella later. Just wait, you won’t be able to defend her then.] 3 In the car, the Sterlings asked about my adoptive parents. I raised an eyebrow. “They went to prison five years ago for child trafficking and abuse. Probably still sewing uniforms.” I knew early on I wasn’t theirs. No one treats their own child that cruelly. The atmosphere grew awkward again. I didn’t try to please Julian like the comments predicted. Instead, I closed my eyes, organizing my chaotic thoughts. From the floating text, I gathered I was the cannon fodder villainess in a tragic romance novel. Stella was the protagonist. Julian was the psycho second male lead. The male lead was Gavin, the heir to the Grand Corporation and Stella’s fiancé. Later, Stella would be mentally and physically abused by these two men in the name of “love.” Eventually, she would break down and jump off a building. Only then would the men regret everything. They would blame me, the one who bullied her, for her death. In the story, I was tortured by them, forced to apologize to Stella’s photo, and finally thrown into the ocean. This plot was insane. The men drove her to suicide, but they blamed me to alleviate their guilt? I decided then and there to stay far away from these two psychopaths. Since I was now a rich daughter, I needed to secure some cash. As for Stella, I had no interest in meddling. As long as I didn’t bully her, the future tragedy wouldn’t be on me, right? 4 Back at the Sterling mansion, the parents left for work, leaving me with Stella. Stella took me to my room. It was full of clutter and old furniture. Clearly, the Sterlings didn’t value their biological daughter much. The comments said they were sexist, viewing daughters only as tools for marriage alliances. Stella stood at the door, biting her lip nervously. “Sister, don’t be mad. It was too rushed, Mom and Dad didn’t have time to clear the room.” “But I wiped everything down this morning. They gave me money to decorate it for you. What do you like? I’ll buy it.” Stella finished in a rush, then rubbed the back of her head, as if afraid I’d slap her like I did Cole. I smiled, running a hand over the clean desk. “Buy whatever. I’m not picky. But I like gold. Real gold.” Stella’s eyes lit up. She started writing in a notebook. I glanced over and saw a small note at the bottom: Sister likes gold. Must save money to buy gold for Sister. I looked at her, puzzled. Was she a people-pleaser? We hadn’t even known each other for five hours, and I hadn’t been nice to her. Why buy me gold? After writing, Stella hurried away as if on an important mission. 5 Dinner was lavish. I ate heartily while answering questions. Learning I dropped out of high school, my parents decided to send me to a private academy. “Is Stella at that school?” I asked. Silence fell over the table again. Why did they always go silent? Too much internal drama. Finally, Julian spoke. “If Anna is uncomfortable, maybe we should transfer Stella to North High? That way they won’t conflict.” The parents nodded. The comments exploded: [The evil sister is at it again! North High is the worst school in the city. Stella will get bullied to death!] [Julian is pushing this so Stella becomes isolated and has to rely on him.] [Disgusting. The parents are bad, Julian is worse, but Anna is the worst.] Wait, what did I say? I just asked a question! Seeing them decide Stella’s fate so easily, I spoke up. “Is the family bankrupt? Can’t afford two tuitions?” They denied it immediately. “Then fine. Stella and I go to the same school. No need to transfer her.” I continued eating. I felt Stella’s grateful gaze but ignored it. I hate that look. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Julian smiling perfectly, but his grip on his chopsticks tightened.

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During a fight, my boyfriend stood there, eyes red and brimming with tears, and screamed at me: “If I could do it all over again, I would never be a simp for you!” Who could have guessed that later that day, we would actually travel back in time to our high school days? True to his word, he acted completely cold toward me. Just as I was feeling disheartened and ready to let this relationship go, I stumbled upon him muttering to himself in a secluded corner of the school. “This time, I absolutely will not be Nina’s dog.” “I have to maintain my image as the icy, unattainable bad boy. I’ll make her swoon until she obeys my every command.” “Damn you, Nina. Just you wait. You’re going to be the one chasing me. You’re going to be the simp!” But that very night, all I did was say one sentence to the school’s top student. My “icy bad boy” instantly dissolved into a sobbing mess: “Boohoo… please, I’m begging you, don’t be with him! He can only be your boyfriend, but I can be your dog!” “If you don’t believe me, I’ll bark for you right now! Woof!” “Woof, woof, woof—” 1 It started in the evening. I was dealing with a critical work crisis, and Jax was hovering over me, doing his best to be a nuisance. I was glued to my computer screen, typing furiously. Suddenly, he dangled a silver chain in front of my face. With a shy, coquettish expression, he said, “Wifey, look! I bought a new body chain. Doesn’t it make my skin look paler? Do you want to see me wear it?” As he spoke, he started unbuttoning his shirt, his finger tracing a line down his chest. I ignored his seduction attempt and kept typing. Seeing no reaction, he ran to the closet, pulled out a maid outfit, and trotted back. He rested his chin on my desk, looking up at me with sparkling puppy eyes. “Wifey, later let’s play ‘Roleplay.’ I’ll be the delicate servant, and you can be the domineering mistress who forces herself on me.” I ignored him. My eyes saw only spreadsheets. Jax pouted, walking away with a look of utter disappointment. Just when I thought he’d given up, he ran back to my side. “Wifey, I’m hungry… feed me?” A wandering hand started creeping toward my shirt. Before he could undo a single button, I slapped his hand away. Jax froze. He clutched the side of his face I’d slapped, looking at me with pure disbelief. “You hit me?” I opened my mouth to apologize, but he immediately turned his head, offering the other cheek. “Hit this side too.” I was speechless. “Jax, you idiot dog, can you stop annoying me?” “You… what did you call me?” Jax’s pupils trembled. “You used to call me ‘Sweetheart’! Now… now you’re calling me ‘Idiot Dog’?” He pointed a trembling finger at me, accusingly. “You women… once you get what you want, you stop cherishing it!” I gave him a look of pure disgust. Jax exploded. “Fine, Nina! Just you wait! Tonight, you sleep alone! No chest pillows, no abs to touch! Let’s see how you sleep without me!” I couldn’t be bothered to argue. I finished my work and went to bed. I was so exhausted I fell asleep instantly. The one tossing and turning all night was Jax. In the middle of the night, he snuck into the room, climbed into bed, and whispered aggressively in my ear: “Nina, I hate that you’re an emotionless block of wood!” That woke me up. I kicked him off the bed. 2 The next morning, I walked out of the bedroom to find Jax standing at the door with a suitcase. I knew immediately he was holding a grudge about the kick and was pulling his “I’m running away from home” routine. Sure enough, he announced, “Nina, how could you treat me like that? I am very angry. I am leaving this house!” I ignored him and went to the kitchen to heat some milk. He had his back to me. When I didn’t react, he assumed I hadn’t heard. He raised his volume. “I am angry! I am leaving!” “Hello? Can you hear me? I said I’m running away!” “Still nothing? I depart!” He shouted a few more times. When there was still no movement, he couldn’t hold back and turned around. I was already sitting at the dining table, enjoying my breakfast. He ran over to me and repeated, “I’m leaving home.” I took a slow bite of my toast. “Oh. Go ahead then.” Jax froze. It took him a long time to speak. “Are you serious?” I nodded. “Yep.” Work had been exhausting lately. He was buzzing in my ear all day and pestering me for “exercise” all night. It was draining. A few days apart might be good. Jax’s eyes turned red instantly. “Can’t you just coax me a little?” “There. Coaxed.” “Perfunctory!” I sighed, looking at him seriously. “Enough. I have to go to work. I really don’t have the energy for your childish games today.” “Childish games?” Jax’s voice pitched up an octave. “You don’t believe me? Fine, I’ll really leave this time!” He sprinted to the door. He stood there for a good minute. Seeing that I really had no intention of stopping him, he lowered his head, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Nina, sometimes I wonder… do you actually like me?” “You treat me like a pet. When you’re happy, you hug me and play with me. When you’re not, you kick me aside.” “You only settled for me because there wasn’t anyone better, right? I’m just your backup plan.” I frowned. “What are you mumbling about? Stop it before I actually get mad.” Jax’s shoulders shook, like he was sobbing. He turned to look at me, eyes rimmed red, and dropped the bombshell: “Nina, if I could do it all over again, I would never be a simp for you!” With that, he wailed like a wounded buffalo and ran out the door with his suitcase. Wait, was he actually mad? Panic set in. I quickly changed my clothes and chased after him. But the moment I stepped into the elevator, my vision went black. 3 When I opened my eyes, I was sitting at a desk in a high school classroom. I couldn’t believe it. I pinched my arm hard. Ouch! I wanted to cry. It was real. I had graduated years ago. I had returned all my knowledge to the teachers. And now, you want me to redo Senior Year? God, I surrender. … Aside from the nightmare of relearning calculus, I faced another problem. Jax’s sudden coldness. Jax and I were childhood friends. Growing up, he was my shadow, always chanting “Nina, Nina” behind me. But now, when we passed in the hallway, he walked right by me without even a glance, his face expressionless. His features were sharp. When he didn’t smile, he looked fierce, radiating a “don’t come near me” aura. Girls used to tell me Jax was a “cold male god,” cool and edgy. I was always shocked. Jax? Cold? He was a golden retriever with boundary issues. Now I understood. He was only warm to me. To everyone else, he was ice. But now, I was no longer the exception. I remembered his last words before the time jump. “If I could do it all over again, I would never be a simp for you!” So, he really didn’t want to be with me this time? My heart felt heavy. I decided to find him after school and talk. Just then, Jax appeared outside my classroom window. I sat by the window, so I could hear him perfectly. He was looking for a guy in my class named Zack. “Hey, wanna play ball after school?” Jax asked, patting Zack’s shoulder. Zack looked surprised. “Don’t you walk Nina home every day? Why basketball?” Jax gave a scoff of pure disdain. “Am I her dog? Following her around all day?” Zack scratched his head. “Aren’t you?” Jax smacked the back of Zack’s head. “The past is the past. The present is the present.” He said seriously, “The current me is not the old me.” Zack was stunned. “Did you guys break up or something?” Jax didn’t answer. I stared at him blankly, my heart clenching tight. Coincidentally, he turned around and our eyes met. But only for a second. He looked away indifferently, like I was a stranger. He turned back to Zack. “Basketball after school. It’s a date.” Then he walked away without hesitation. The pen in my hand dug into my palm. A sour ache spread through my chest. I guess there was no need to talk. It would just be humiliating myself. A tear splattered onto my workbook. 4 My mood was in the gutter until the next afternoon. To relieve the stress, I didn’t go straight home. I wandered around the school grounds. That’s when I stumbled upon Jax. He was hiding in a secluded corner behind the gym, muttering to himself. I crept closer to eavesdrop. “Basketball is so boring. Walking home with Wifey is way better.” “A bunch of sweaty dudes stink. Wifey smells nice.” “I want to hug my younger Wifey and sniff her like a cat.” “So annoying. Why hasn’t she come to find me yet?” Jax kicked the wall in frustration. “Maybe I should go find her tomorrow.” The second the words left his mouth, he slapped himself. “Jax! Where is your ambition?” “Did you forget what you said?” “Do you want to be a woman’s plaything forever?” After a pause, his voice turned firm. “This time, I absolutely will not be Nina’s dog.” “I have to maintain my image as the icy, unattainable bad boy. I’ll make her swoon until she obeys my every command!” “Damn you, Nina. Just you wait. You’re going to be the one chasing me. You’re going to be the simp!” “Hmph. When she finally confesses, I’m going to leave her hanging for two days. Let her taste what it feels like to be anxious.” A second later: “Tsk, two days feels too long. What if she cries?” “One day.” “Hmm… one day is still long. Half a day.” “Okay, half a day. It’s decided!” Jax started getting lost in his fantasy. “With this strategy, Nina will treat me like a treasure. She’ll do whatever I say.” “In the future, I’ll make her wear the maid outfit to serve me. And I’ll pick the positions. She won’t dare kick me off the bed.” “I, Jax, am finally going to be the master of the house.” “Hehe… hehehe…” He started giggling like an idiot. The corner of my mouth twitched. So that was his plan. But he didn’t know I had traveled back too. Suddenly, the tears I shed yesterday felt like a waste. If I didn’t teach him a lesson, he really wouldn’t know who wore the pants in this relationship.

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The real heiress, after enduring years of abuse in the countryside, was finally reunited with the Ashworth family. In her second year back, she killed our father, the city’s richest man, with a single knife wound. And I, the fake heiress, was the only witness. I called the police immediately, swearing she would pay with her life. Every piece of evidence at the crime scene, every forensic finding, and the autopsy report all corroborated my testimony. The real heiress, Seraphina, had no defense. She could only confess. But the lead detective on the case, Miles Corbin, was convinced there was more to the story. To uncover the truth, he latched onto me and refused to let go. But later, when I finally told him everything, the sharpest blade in South Crest Homicide completely broke down. “Stop,” he begged, his voice cracking. “That’s enough. Please…” 1 The harsh light of the interrogation room beat down on my face, making my eyes ache. Across from me sat the man leading the questioning: Detective Miles Corbin, head of the South Crest Police Department’s Homicide Division. Every question he threw at me was a hammer blow against my nerves. “After Seraphina Ashworth was brought back to the family, you repeatedly tried to force her out. Why?” “We hear that Mr. Ashworth planned to transfer a five percent stake in the Ashworth Corporation to her at her college acceptance party. He was also going to announce her engagement to the Prescott family.” “You grew up with Julian Prescott, the youngest son of the Prescott family. You’ve been in love with him since you were children, haven’t you?” “Seraphina came back and took everything that was supposed to be hers. You must have wanted her to disappear, didn’t you?” I remained silent. An eerie quiet settled over the room. Suddenly, Detective Corbin slammed his hand on the table, the sound echoing through the sterile space. SLAM! It was just like the thud of my father’s body hitting the bed after the knife went in. “Seraphina confessed so quickly,” he said, his voice low and intense. “Your statements match perfectly. Almost too perfectly.” “But you both overlooked one crucial detail. Seraphina had no motive!” He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto mine. “Chloe Ashworth, she’s taking the fall for you, isn’t she?” I closed my eyes, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. It was always like this. People who had never walked a mile in my shoes felt they could so easily judge me. After all, in every story about the swapped heiress, the real villain is always the vicious, jealous fake. Detective Corbin watched me, not missing the slightest flicker of emotion on my face. When I still didn’t speak, he tapped the table, a slow, deliberate rhythm. “Conrad Ashworth was in his prime. He was fit. Seraphina, on the other hand, is malnourished and frail. Assuming she was the killer, tell me, how did she manage a single, fatal blow?” “We’ve looked into Seraphina’s past. The sixteen years she spent in that rural village… it was hell. Her adoptive parents’ actions constituted severe abuse and neglect. Yet, she never gave up. She fought with everything she had to find her way back to her real family.” “Do you really think someone who cherishes life that much, someone who clawed her way toward the light, would kill her own father over a little favoritism?” His gaze deepened, his tone heavy with meaning. “Mr. Conrad Ashworth was a great philanthropist. You can go outside and see for yourself how many people in South Crest, and across the country, have benefited from his generosity!” “He didn’t deserve to die like this.” I slowly opened my eyes. I hadn’t had a single night of proper sleep since the murder. Now, the sound of Corbin’s voice, the rhythmic tap of his fingers on the table, felt like a drill boring into my skull. But my lawyer, Mr. Davies, had warned me. Everything in this room was a calculated psychological game. I had to stay sharp. “I have already recounted the events of that night as they occurred,” I said, my voice steady. “The law expressly prohibits the use of inducement or deception to obtain evidence.” “You have been leading me with your questions. I request that this line of questioning be noted in the record, and that this entire session is being recorded.” Corbin shot to his feet, leaning over the table on his knuckles. His eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, pinned me in place. “When Seraphina was in that remote mountain village, she did everything she could just to attend school. After returning to the Ashworths, she was given the best educational resources imaginable. Your father not only hired the finest tutors for her, but he also enrolled her in South Crest’s top preparatory academy.” “As long as Conrad Ashworth was alive, Seraphina’s future and fortune were secure. What possible reason could she have to kill him?” “According to the autopsy, the weapon entered at a 35-degree upward angle, right through the diaphragm. It didn’t strike the heart directly at first, but the killer then twisted the blade, severing the major blood vessels nearby.” His voice was a low growl. “That’s a special kind of hatred. Making sure he wouldn’t survive.” This man, the embodiment of justice, stood before me. He was an immovable mountain, before which all evil was exposed. His voice was crushing. “Chloe Ashworth, tell me. What are you hiding? Or maybe the question is, what are you holding over Seraphina’s head to make her confess?” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Your mother’s death last year… was it really an accident?” The thread I’d been holding onto snapped. I shot up from my chair and shoved him, but it was like pushing against a brick wall. “Why are you dragging my mother into this?! She’s dead! She’s already dead! Why can’t you just let her rest?!” “Seraphina killed him! The evidence is there, the witnesses are there, why won’t you believe it?!” “Go interrogate the murderer! Why are you in here grilling me, the witness?!” The female officer taking notes rushed over, shouting, “Sit down! Hands on your lap!” I was trembling all over, my eyes burning with hatred as I stared at Corbin. After a long moment, I sank back into the chair, my eyes red, and slowly forced my breathing to even out. “Fine,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “I’ll prove her motive.” “…Two years ago, the very first day Seraphina, no, she was called Daisy back then, the very first day Daisy set foot in our house, she tried to kill me.” 2 That day, Julian Prescott and I were coming home from school. I was on my period and in a foul mood, so I stormed out of the car and headed straight for the house. Julian trailed behind me, holding a thermos of the ginger tea he’d brewed just for my cramps, trying every trick in the book to cheer me up. “Your Highness, your humble servant skipped class to prepare this elixir. Won’t you grace it with a sip?” The household staff nearby covered their mouths, trying to stifle their laughter. My face flushed. I snatched the thermos from him, twisted the cap open, and took a small sip. Julian stood there, grinning as he watched me. Suddenly, he spoke. “Huh, who’s that?” “Why are there cops at your house? Did something happen?” I followed his gaze and saw them, two police officers standing outside the main house, and next to them, a thin, sun-darkened girl. Daisy. She wore an ill-fitting red dress. Her thin, straw-colored hair was pulled into a braid over her shoulder, and on her feet were a pair of faded black cloth shoes. Everything about her screamed cheap and out of place, yet she held herself with a strange, clean dignity. She was clearly nervous, but her back was ramrod straight. Her eyes were fixed on me, the girl who had everything, and they were filled with a profound sadness. She had obviously seen the whole exchange with Julian. When she noticed me looking, she took a clumsy step back, as if trying to hide the worn-out toes of her shoes. My father was gratefully seeing the officers off. My mother, Eleanor, was crying, pulling Daisy into her arms without a hint of hesitation. “My daughter,” she wept. “I’m so sorry. Chloe’s blood type was the same as yours… we never knew those monsters swapped you. All these years… how much you must have suffered…” The thermos slipped from my hand and clattered onto the stone path. Julian was stunned. He recovered quickly, his hand finding mine, his grip full of concern. My mother turned to me, her expression a mix of emotions. Wiping her tears, she spoke in a soft voice. “Chloe, this is your sister. My… my other child. She grew up in the countryside and has been through so much. From now on, you need to be understanding with her.” My father, usually so stern, looked at Daisy with undisguised pity. He gently patted her back. “You’re home now. That’s all that matters.” “We won’t call you Daisy anymore,” he declared. “To match Chloe, we’ll call you Seraphina.” “Everything you’ve missed, your mother and I will give it back to you.” “You and Chloe are the same age. You can keep each other company. You’ll get used to each other in no time.” My nose tingled, my eyes burned. I opened my mouth to say “Okay,” but all that came out was a weak, trembling smile. Daisy’s lips remained a thin line. The affection from her biological parents didn’t seem to move her. If anything, she looked disappointed. Her eyes landed on me again, her focus intense. She studied my face, then my school uniform, the designer backpack slung over my shoulder, and the simple but expensive leather shoes on my feet. Her gaze swept over to Julian, who stood protectively beside me, his refined air screaming old money. Finally, she looked back at our parents and forced a smile that was more painful than a grimace. “You raised her well.” Slowly, she pushed up her sleeves, revealing arms littered with scars. “I assume the police notified you of my existence a few days ago.” “I don’t know how much they told you, or what you’ve found out on your own, but before we make this official, before you change my name, I want you to hear my version.” “Chloe’s biological parents stole me and took me back to their village in the mountains. It’s so remote the bus lines don’t even go there. Most people live their whole lives without ever seeing a city.” “My earliest memories are of being chained in a pigsty, fighting animals for scraps.” “My ‘parents’ couldn’t have a son, and in the village, that was a disgrace. They took all their bitterness out on me. They cursed me, beat me, tried to break my spirit, and made me kneel on the ground and lick up my food like a dog.” “Later, a charity school opened in the village. I insisted on going. They would have rather beaten me to death than let me. I begged the village chief. I worked myself to exhaustion at the homes of the village elders, collapsing several times in the dead of winter, just to earn the chance to go to school.” “As long as they didn’t kill me, I was going to study. To escape that hell, I was so careful, so patient. But last year, they sold me to an old bachelor in the village.” “Five hundred dollars. That’s all it took for them to ruin my life.” “I didn’t know the truth about my birth then. There’s a taboo in the village about marrying relatives, but they sold me to a distant cousin, and no one stopped them. Now I understand. They all knew. Every single one of them was an accomplice.” “My hands and feet were bound, and I was carried to his house. I was pregnant within three months. I was only fifteen… The next year, I had a difficult birth. I begged him to take me to a hospital.” “The county hospital had a maternity ward. It was my only chance to get to a city. I was hemorrhaging, but I screamed for help from the doctors and nurses.” “I almost died on that operating table. The baby didn’t make it. I sent my ‘parents’ and that man to prison.” “Back then, I thought my life was completely ruined. But at the police station, they told me I had other parents.” “So I thought, even though I was broken, I had to get better. I had to face my real parents looking my best.” “I had let go of the hate. They weren’t my real parents, so it wasn’t my fault they treated me that way.” “But coming here, seeing the child you raised like a precious jewel, I realize… that all the cruelty I endured, all those years I was treated worse than an animal… you can’t just erase it with a simple ‘we didn’t know’.” My mother nearly fainted from grief. My father’s face was etched with sorrow. Even Julian’s eyes were red. Daisy raised a scarred finger and pointed it at me. “So, Chloe and I can never be at peace.” “I will only stay in this house until I graduate from high school. After that, I’m leaving. I won’t fight Chloe for anything, and don’t you dare try to use family to tie me down.” Her words pinned me to the spot. Only then did I understand what kind of life we had traded. The novels and TV shows always start the story when the real heiress returns, but the heartbreaking past, which is only ever shown in flashbacks, seems to be a pain only she bears. But for two girls who have lived such a twisted fate, can there ever be an easy reconciliation? Julian brushed my cheek with the back of his hand. I hadn’t realized I was crying. He looked at Daisy and said earnestly, “But Chloe is a wonderful person. You can’t blame her for what happened. It’s not fair to her.” “You’re back with your family now. It’s a new beginning. Why not let go of the past so you can all be a family?” He gave me a gentle push forward. I stumbled a few steps. Timidly, I reached out my hand. “Seraphina… sister, I…” But it was like a switch flipped inside her. Her face contorted with rage. She lunged at me, her hands closing around my throat, and slammed me against the wall. “I can’t let it go! I will never let it go!” she screamed, her voice raw. “Don’t call me sister! Don’t talk to me! Don’t you dare look at me with those pathetic, pitying eyes!” “Chloe Ashworth, your very existence is a sin!” Her eyes were filled with hate, with despair, and with tears. Our parents’ attempts to pull her off were useless. She was like a cornered animal, fighting with a suicidal ferocity. Julian, enraged, kicked her hard, sending her stumbling away. I gasped for air, my throat burning. Angry red marks were already blooming on my neck. In that moment, I knew. She truly wanted me dead. Julian hadn’t held back. Daisy’s head hit the corner of the coffee table, and blood streamed down her forehead. She ignored it, pushing herself back to her feet. Her voice was cold, empty. “Are you angry? That feeling of suffocation, of near-death? I’ve felt it more times than I can count.” She straightened her dress. “I’m not taking anyone’s name. From now on, I’m Seraphina. Seraphina Ashworth.” “From this day forward, my life is my own.” The timid, awestruck, hysterical girl who had arrived just moments before was gone. In her place was a warrior in a suit of armor, her eyes devoid of any warmth. I shrank into my mother’s arms, watching her through a blur of tears. It was like looking at a demon summoned from the depths of hell. 3 As the memory faded, I snapped my head up to look at Detective Corbin, my voice rising with agitation. “She’s just born bad! She’s violent! She’s the one who killed my father!” “She hated me for taking her place. She hated our parents for losing her. She only came back for revenge!” “But what did I do wrong? What was my crime in all of this?!” The young female officer looked on with a pained expression, her eyes welling up, though for whom, I couldn’t tell. Detective Corbin, however, remained impassive. After a long pause, he gave a small, humorless smile. “You’re smart. You’re using this emotional outburst to hide the truth.” “But you’re still young, Chloe. You’re not talking to some random person on the street. You’re talking to a seasoned detective who has dealt with countless criminals.” The young officer beside him awkwardly scratched her nose. Corbin’s fingers resumed their soft, rhythmic tapping on the table. “Anger is sharp. It’s easy to express with your body. But hatred… hatred is chronic. It’s much harder to fake.” “Your eyes tell a different story. You don’t hate Seraphina. On the contrary, you’re heartbroken by what she went through.” “So, what was that display of anger meant to accomplish?” “Chloe Ashworth, let me remind you. Providing a false statement not only obstructs justice, it carries legal consequences. We don’t need your clever games. We just need the truth.” “Did Seraphina Ashworth really kill your father?” My pupils constricted. A chill ran through me. I remembered something Seraphina had once said to me. “You’re a little greenhouse flower. You wear every emotion on your face. Don’t even try to play games with me. Only a fool like Julian would fall for it.” “So when you’re dealing with someone like me, you have two choices: either swallow your little schemes, or tell the truth.” I dug my nails into my thighs, forcing myself to meet Corbin’s gaze. My voice was calm, earnest. “Then I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you, Detective.” “I know you suspect me, but I did not kill my father.” He studied me, and for the first time, a hint of uncertainty flickered in the veteran detective’s eyes. Corbin thought for a moment, then spoke in a low voice. “Studies show that when women commit crimes, their motives are often directly tied to external triggers.” “Chloe, you’re the only witness. You say the killer is Seraphina. Even if the evidence is solid, the trigger you’ve given me isn’t strong enough. It doesn’t convince me.” “Now, tell me again what happened on the night of the murder.” I lowered my eyes. My mind was dragged back to that night. “After Seraphina came back, my mother was consumed with guilt. She wanted to give her everything. Slowly, she started to neglect me.” “Because of that, my father paid more attention to me. Whenever my mother treated us differently, he would defend me. He took me to business events, bought me priceless jewelry at auctions, and made it clear to everyone that I was still his cherished daughter.” “During that time, my parents fought almost every day. I felt caught in the middle and just tried to avoid it. But Seraphina would always stand in front of my mother, a wall of thorns, confronting my father head-on. The tension between them just got worse and worse…” “Then my mother died suddenly. After that, Seraphina stopped calling him ‘Dad.’ She blamed his indifference for my mother’s decline.” “That night…” That night, the rain was torrential. In the dead of night, a flash of lightning tore the sky in two, as if a god had slashed it with a blade. My eyes flew open. I scrambled out of bed in terror and fell to the floor. Cold sweat soaked my back, and my breathing came in ragged gasps. Just then, my bedroom door creaked open. “Chloe, the thunder is bad. Are you okay? I was worried.” The next flash of lightning illuminated his face, twisting his features into a monstrous mask, as if he’d grown fangs. A scream tore from my throat. My father immediately flipped on the light and rushed in. He was still wearing the expensive suit he’d left in, clearly just having returned home. Seeing my terror, he knelt beside me, his eyes full of concern. “A nightmare? Don’t be scared, Chloe. Daddy’s here.” He held out a jewelry box. “I went to the villa to get your mother’s favorite necklace. Want to see?” “Silly girl. Mommy’s gone, but you still have me. And you have your sister…” He unfastened his cufflinks, took off his watch, and shed his suit jacket, rolling up his sleeves. Then he took out the priceless sapphire necklace and gently fastened it around my neck. I replayed the scene in my mind. “My father was talking to me, trying to calm me down. Then, Seraphina burst into my room. When she saw the necklace on me, she went insane and lunged for it.” “She had never known a moment of kindness in her life. My mother was the only light she’d ever had. Like me, she couldn’t accept her death. She couldn’t stand my father touching my mother’s things.” “She pulled so hard the chain scraped my neck and drew blood. My father got angry and slapped her…” “They kept arguing, breaking things. Then the thunder started again. I was so scared…” “When I came to my senses, my father was lying in a pool of blood. Seraphina was standing there, holding the bloody knife, her face a mask of shock…” Tears streamed down my face. I wrapped my arms around myself. “There was blood everywhere… on the floor, the walls… I couldn’t tell if it was his or hers… all I could do was scream…” My vision blurred. My voice broke, losing the line between reality and memory. But Corbin cut through the haze, his voice sharp. “That bread knife. Why was it in your room?” “The Ashworths need you to slice your own bread?” I paused, then answered in a low voice. “I have trouble sleeping. I often get up to study at night. My mother worried I’d get hungry, so she had a small kitchenette set up in my room with some basic supplies…” The words were barely out of my mouth when Corbin fired another question. “You and Mr. Ashworth were close?” My face was a calm mask, but a sharp spasm shot through my left hand. I quickly used my right to grip my thumb, stilling the tremor. In psychology, when a suspect is lying, you increase the pace of questioning. So, he thought I was lying. I squeezed my eyes shut. When I opened them again, they were swimming with tears. “As everyone knows,” I said, my voice trembling, “I was the person my father loved most in this world.” Corbin scrutinized me. After a long moment, he stood up abruptly. He paced back and forth, thinking. “No.” “That’s not right.” “The first half of your story was incredibly detailed. But the second half… you glossed over certain parts, rushing through them.” “Between the moment your father put the necklace on you and the moment Seraphina burst in… what happened in that gap?” “Someone truly terrified wouldn’t be able to recall details so clearly. But you remember every step he took. Unfastening his cufflinks, removing his watch, taking off his jacket, rolling up his sleeves.” “Your attention must have been completely fixed on him. You were watching his every move. So what happened next?” My curled fingers twitched. Then, my body began to shake uncontrollably. I tried to stop it, but my teeth started chattering. When I looked up, my eyes were wide with a primal fear, as if I were staring into an abyss. Corbin’s pupils dilated slightly. He returned to his seat. I braced for him to dig deeper, but instead, he changed the subject entirely. “What is your assessment of the relationship between Julian Prescott and Seraphina Ashworth?” 4 I fought to regain control, waiting for the wave of terror to pass. When it did, I spoke softly. “Julian…” It felt like a lifetime since we had truly spoken. My memory drifted back to the summer Seraphina arrived. To help her catch up academically, my father hired the best tutors in South Crest. South Crest Preparatory Academy was the top school in the state, where both Julian and I were students. At first, because of the animosity between Seraphina and me, Julian was firmly on my side. He not only ignored Seraphina himself but also acted as my bodyguard, making sure I was never left alone with her, terrified she might hurt me again. That changed one day when we overheard Seraphina’s English tutor complaining to her physics tutor in the garden. “It’s like teaching a toddler to speak,” the English tutor said with dramatic flair. “But at least toddlers are clever. They can learn and adapt.” “This ‘real heiress’ speaks English with such a thick rural accent… I just can’t get rid of it.” The physics tutor sighed. “They said she finished middle school, but I looked into it. The school was at the foot of a mountain, understaffed… the same teachers taught both middle and elementary school.” “Mr. Ashworth expects us to get her up to speed with the academy’s curriculum. It’s an impossible task.” I saw a sliver of Seraphina’s dress from behind a nearby wall. She was listening. Mortified for her, I was about to pull Julian away, but he was already marching over to them. “Is that how a teacher is supposed to speak?” he demanded, his voice sharp. “You were hired by Mr. Ashworth to teach, and you’re being paid handsomely for it. The least you can do is provide the service you were hired for!” “I will report every word you just said to him. You’d better think about that.” The two tutors jumped, stammering apologies. The genuine anger on Julian’s face vanished the moment Seraphina stepped out from behind the wall. He looked flustered, tugging at the collar of his uniform. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I just…” “Thank you,” Seraphina cut him off. They stood there in awkward silence. After that, whenever Julian saw Seraphina, he would still look uncomfortable, but he would offer a simple greeting. And Seraphina, instead of her usual icy glare, would usually give a curt nod in return. I watched as the boy I’d known my whole life started mentioning her more and more. His nickname for her changed from “that violent girl” to “your sister,” and finally, to “Seraphina.” Summer ended, and autumn flew by. By the first snowfall of winter, Julian was tutoring her himself. “She’s brilliant, you know,” he told me once. “And tough. She never backs down from a challenge.” “If she had grown up here, she would have been one of the most remarkable women of our generation.” More than once at parties, he would say with a sigh, “Compared to Seraphina, Chloe, you’ve had such a blessed life.” He took her to fine restaurants, to the symphony, to amusement parks where they screamed on rollercoasters. He introduced her to a world she had never known. During their tutoring sessions, he poured all his knowledge into her. The time he spent with me dwindled to almost nothing. Eventually, Seraphina’s grades broke into the top hundred in our year. And then, our two families sat down to discuss the engagement. Julian’s father proposed that the engagement be with Seraphina instead. Seraphina did not refuse. Julian did not object. As the decision was finalized, I saw it clearly. A small, subtle smile touched the lips of the boy I had cherished for more than a decade. No one heard the sound of my heart shattering. I skipped school and sat at my mother’s grave for the entire day. Even though I was no longer the center of her world, in my deepest sorrow, she was the only one I wanted to be near. I remembered when I was very small, my mother holding my hand, leading me to Julian for the first time. She had smiled and said, “Julian, this is my little treasure. She’s starting at your preschool tomorrow. Can you be her knight and protect her for me?” A young Julian had looked at me with curiosity, then puffed out his little chest. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Ashworth! I’m the best protector there is!” And just like that, he had taken my hand and protected me as I grew up. But in the same year my mother died, he let my hand go. As I left the cemetery, I told my mother that my boy was no longer mine, and that I was all alone in the world. The life I had stolen was finally being returned. As I finished recounting the memory, my eyes welled with tears. Suddenly, the interrogation room door was pushed open. “Detective,” an officer said, “we’ve got new evidence.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387869”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel