Category: English

“Fiona, you can take your maternity leave, but you absolutely must be present for the project presentation on Monday.” Monday? That would be exactly seven days after my C-section. I lay in the bed at the postpartum care center, my incision still seeping blood. On the other end of the phone was my department manager, David Reynolds. “Don’t worry, just show your face to prove you were involved in the project.” He made it sound so effortless. But I wrote that project—from the very first line of code to the final algorithm iteration. What did he mean by “prove I was involved”? I stayed silent, then heard him add, “Chloe can’t handle it alone. The investors specifically asked to see the core developer.” Chloe? The same Chloe who couldn’t even read a basic code framework? A sudden, sharp laugh escaped me. “Fine. I’ll go.” I hung up and logged into the company intranet. In the project team roster, my name had been quietly shuffled to the very last line. Alright. If they want to play games, let’s play in the big leagues. 01 The nurse at the postpartum center blocked the door, looking at me like I was insane. “Ms. Hayes, you had a C-section a week ago! What if you go out in the wind and your incision tears open?” I pulled on my coat, zipping it all the way up to my chin. “If it tears, they can stitch it back up.” With that, I walked out the door. My husband, Ethan’s, car was parked downstairs. Seeing me come down, he immediately threw open his door and ran over. “Honey, are you really doing this? David is scum, why are you letting him get to you?” I leaned on his arm, walking slowly toward the car door. “If I don’t go, the project becomes Chloe’s.” Ethan frowned. “So what? Worst case, you find a new job—” “Ethan,” I cut him off, “I spent two years on this project. Do you know how many all-nighters I pulled?” He fell silent. I continued, “An eighty-million-dollar valuation. The investors are signing the contract next week. And right now, the name under ‘Project Lead’ is Chloe’s.” Eighty million. The moment those words hung in the air, the car went quiet for a few seconds. Ethan started the engine without another word. I leaned back in my seat, waves of dull, throbbing pain radiating from my incision. My phone buzzed again. It was a text from Chloe. “Fiona! I heard you’re coming today? That’s amazing! I’m so nervous doing this alone, and I don’t really understand some of the investors’ questions…” She attached a pleading, teary-eyed emoji. I didn’t reply. Two years ago, when Chloe first joined the company, she didn’t even know how to install Python. I sat with her, line by line, setting up her environment. I held her hand through the documentation. She called me her mentor and brought me lunch every single day. I actually thought I had trained a good protégé. Until I was seven months pregnant and took half a day off for a checkup. When I returned, my desk had been cleared out. Project documentation, development logs, testing reports—all copied and transferred. That afternoon, David sent a message to the team chat: Due to personnel adjustments, Chloe will temporarily take over as project lead. Temporarily. What a nice, harmless word. I waddled into David’s office with my heavy belly. He smiled warmly and said, “Fiona, just focus on a healthy pregnancy. Chloe has the project handled. When you come back from maternity leave, you’ll still be our core developer.” I believed him. I was an idiot. 02 The company was on the eighteenth floor. When I stepped out of the elevator, the girls at the front desk all stared at me. I could feel their eyes lingering on my lower abdomen. Seven days postpartum, my stomach hadn’t completely shrunk back yet. Even a loose coat couldn’t hide it. “Fiona? What are you doing here?” Lily from the front desk hurried over, lowering her voice. “Aren’t you on maternity leave?” I offered a tight smile. “Meeting.” Her expression shifted, looking like she wanted to say something but held back. I didn’t ask. I walked straight toward the conference room. As I passed Chloe’s cubicle, she was muttering to herself, staring at her screen. When she saw me, she practically jumped out of her chair. “Fiona! You’re here!” 她 hurried over, reaching out to support me. I took a step sideways, avoiding her hand. “I’m fine. I can walk.” Chloe’s hand hung frozen in the air. For a split second, she looked awkward, but quickly recovered her bright smile. “Fiona, you haven’t recovered yet. You just sit during the meeting. You don’t need to say anything; I’ll handle the presentation.” Her tone was so incredibly natural. As if she truly was the project lead. As if I was just a supporting character here to applaud her. I looked at her, suddenly remembering something. “Chloe, did you read the technical documentation the investors sent last week? They have questions about the precision of the recommendation algorithm.” Chloe froze. “Ah… I looked at it, but it was too technical. I didn’t really understand…” “If you didn’t understand it, how do you plan to explain it?” She blinked, her smile sickeningly sweet. “Fiona, that’s why you’re here! You’re the core developer, you understand the technical stuff best.” I nodded and said nothing more. When I walked into the conference room, David was already sitting at the head of the table. Seeing me, he stood up, plastering a fake smile on his face. “Fiona’s here! How are you feeling? Hanging in there?” I gripped the back of a chair and slowly lowered myself down. “I’m managing.” David nodded, glancing at the clock on the wall. “The investors arrive at ten, we have half an hour. Just rest for now. You won’t need to present later; let Chloe do the talking. Just sit there and look supportive.” I looked up at him. “David, I haven’t seen the latest version of the project materials. Could you send me a copy?” He paused, exchanging a quick look with Chloe. “Materials? What materials?” “The version of the project proposal, PowerPoint, and technical documentation the investors will be reviewing.” Silence fell over the conference room for several agonizing seconds. David let out a dry, forced laugh. “Fiona, you just had a baby. Why stress yourself out with all this information? Just focus on resting.” I didn’t back down. “David, I am the core developer. If I can’t even see the presentation materials, how am I supposed to answer the investors’ questions?” His smile stiffened instantly. Chloe chimed in from the side, “Fiona, I made the PowerPoint. It’s mostly based on your previous proposal, I just added some visual effects—” “Send it to me.” My tone was perfectly calm, but leaving absolutely zero room for argument. Chloe glanced at David, who waved his hand dismissively. “Just send it, send it.” Two minutes later, the PowerPoint arrived in my inbox. I opened it and stared at the very first slide. Project Name: SmartSelect Recommendation System Project Lead: Chloe Core Developer: Fiona I scrolled down. The technical architecture diagram. I drew that. The algorithm flowchart. I created that. The model parameter table. I tuned those. Yet, in the bottom corner of every single slide was a tiny, watermark-like signature: Chloe. I skipped to the final slide. The acknowledgment page read: Thank you to all team members for their hard work, with special thanks to Manager David Reynolds for his careful guidance. My name appeared somewhere in the middle of a long list of names. Right behind Chloe’s. I closed my laptop and took a deep, shaky breath. My C-section incision was throbbing violently. 03 The investors arrived right on time. There were two of them, a man and a woman. The man was in his fifties, with graying hair and gold-rimmed glasses. His business card read: Vanguard Capital, Partner, Richard Sterling. The woman was around thirty, with a sharp bob and a black suit. Her card read: Vanguard Capital, Investment Manager, Olivia Vance. David was all smiles, practically fawning as he rushed to shake their hands. “Mr. Sterling, Ms. Vance, thank you for coming all this way!” Richard nodded, his gaze sweeping the room before finally settling on me. “And this is?” David hesitated for a fraction of a second before quickly introducing me. “This is our technical staff, Fiona.” He said “technical staff,” not “core developer.” Richard simply gave a noncommittal “Hmm” and said nothing more. Olivia, however, lingered on me for a moment. Her gaze stayed on my face for a few seconds, her brows furrowing slightly as if she were trying to recall something. But she also remained silent. Once everyone was seated, Chloe stood up and walked over to the projection screen. “Hello everyone, I am Chloe, the project lead for this initiative. I will now present our progress—” Her voice was sugary sweet, and the PowerPoint was undeniably beautiful, using trendy Morandi color palettes. I sat quietly in the corner, listening to her. “Our core algorithm utilizes a hybrid architecture combining collaborative filtering and deep learning. In cold-start scenarios, we enhance precision through user profile completion—” She spoke fluently, rattling off technical jargon one after another. I knew she had copied every single word from my documentation. Because she made a mistake on one specific term. She said “completion,” but my original text used the word “compensation.” The meanings are entirely different in this context. For the cold-start problem in collaborative filtering, we used a profile compensation mechanism, not completion. I kept my mouth shut. I just listened. Chloe presented for fifteen minutes. Richard remained completely expressionless the entire time. When she finished, Richard flipped through the printed materials in front of him and suddenly spoke. “Manager Chloe, what loss function does your recommendation model use?” Chloe froze. “Loss function…” she repeated, her eyes darting around frantically. “It’s the… the function that calculates the error…” Richard waited. Sweat began to bead on Chloe’s forehead. “Specifically… regarding the technical details…” She turned her head and looked at me, her eyes screaming for help. The conference room was so quiet you could hear the low hum of the air conditioning. I didn’t move. I just sat in the corner, exactly as she had instructed, “You don’t need to say anything.” David’s face had already completely changed color. He let out another dry laugh. “Mr. Sterling, the technical details are quite complex. We can organize a detailed document and send it over to you later—” “No need.” Richard cut him off, turning his gaze to me. “Ms. Fiona, you are the technical staff, correct? You answer.” Everyone’s eyes snapped to me. Chloe’s face went white. David looked like he was going to be sick. I slowly stood up, keeping one hand firmly on the back of my chair for support. The pain from my incision was making me break out in a cold sweat, but my posture was rock solid. “Mr. Sterling, our loss function utilizes a BPR loss combined with a second-order regularization term.” I paused for a second before continuing. “BPR stands for Bayesian Personalized Ranking, which is used to address ranking problems in implicit feedback scenarios. Building upon this, we incorporated a negative sampling strategy, adjusting the negative sampling rate from the standard 1:5 ratio to 1:20, significantly improving the model’s coverage of fringe users.” A spark of genuine interest lit up Richard’s eyes. “With a 1:20 negative sampling rate, how do you handle overfitting?” “We implemented a two-layer approach. First, we applied a dropout rate of 0.3 in the embedding layer. Second, we performed time slicing on the training set, using the first six months of data for training and the last two months for validation, effectively preventing data leakage.” Richard nodded slowly, then asked, “Have you conducted live A/B testing? What were the results?” “We have. The click-through rate increased by 23%, and the conversion rate increased by 17%. The testing period ran for two weeks, with a sample size of 500,000.” I spoke at a steady, measured pace, every number crystal clear. This data was burned into my brain. Because I was the one who generated every single bit of it. Richard set the documents down and leaned back in his chair. He looked at Chloe, then looked at me. “David,” he finally spoke, “this Ms. Fiona is your actual core developer, isn’t she?” David’s face flushed a deep, embarrassed red. “Mr. Sterling, Fiona is indeed a core technical team member, but she is currently on maternity leave, so—” “Maternity leave?” Richard interrupted. “Isn’t she sitting right here?” The conference room descended into a deathly, suffocating silence. I watched Chloe lower her head, staring fixedly at the tabletop. Olivia, sitting next to Richard, suddenly spoke up. “Ms. Fiona, forgive me for asking, but how many days postpartum are you?” I replied, “Seven days.” The color drained from Olivia’s face. “C-section or natural birth?” “C-section.” She took a sharp intake of breath and turned to look at Richard. Richard didn’t say a word, but his expression had grown dangerously dark. David, realizing the situation was spiraling out of control, desperately tried to do damage control. “Fiona just has an incredibly strong sense of responsibility. We tried to talk her out of it, but she insisted on coming—” “David,” Richard cut him off sharply. “We invest in projects, but more importantly, we invest in people. Forcing an employee who is seven days postpartum from a major surgery to attend a presentation—is this indicative of your company’s management style?” David opened his mouth but couldn’t force a single word out. I stood there in complete silence. Honestly, my incision was hurting so badly I could barely stand. But I endured it. I wanted them to see this scene unfold with perfect clarity. 04 The meeting ended abruptly and poorly. As Richard was leaving, he gave me a long look, seemingly wanting to say more, but ultimately just offered, “Ms. Fiona, please take care of your health.” As Olivia walked past me, she discreetly slipped a business card into my hand. “If you need anything, please contact me.” I clutched the card and nodded. The moment the investors walked out the door, David’s face twisted into an ugly scowl. He slammed the project folder onto the table. “Fiona! What exactly was the meaning of that stunt you pulled today?” I gripped the back of the chair and slowly sat down. My incision was trembling, and I could feel a damp, warm sensation spreading beneath my clothes—it was likely bleeding. “What do you mean?” “When Richard asked you a question, couldn’t you have shown a little humility? Did you really have to steal the spotlight?” I looked at him, finding the entire situation utterly ridiculous. “David, Richard asked a technical question. Chloe couldn’t answer it. If I didn’t answer it, who was going to?” He choked on his own words. Next to him, Chloe kept her head down, her eyes rimmed with red, playing the part of a deeply wronged victim perfectly. “Fiona… I know I’m not as capable as you, but you didn’t have to humiliate me like that in front of the investors…” Her voice trembled with unshed tears. I stared at her for several long seconds. “Chloe, do you even know what a loss function is?” She froze. “Of course I do, it’s that… the thing that calculates the error—” “You don’t know.” I cut her off sharply. “You have no idea what a loss function is, yet you had the audacity to stand in front of investors and pretend to present the core algorithm. The technical jargon on your PowerPoint—you copied it straight from my documentation, didn’t you?” Chloe’s face drained of color. “I didn’t copy it… I just referenced it…” “Referenced?” I let out a cold laugh, unlocked my phone, and pulled up a screenshot of slide 12 from her presentation, zooming in for her to see. “This technical architecture diagram? I drew it two years ago. The original file is on my hard drive, created on September 17, 2022, at 3:41 PM. Tell me again how you ‘referenced’ it?” Chloe’s lips trembled. “I… I thought… we’re a team, the materials are shared resources…” “Shared?” I put my phone away and spoke, enunciating every single word. “Chloe, right before I went on maternity leave, did you copy every single file from my workstation while I wasn’t looking?” Her face went from pale white to bright red, and back to white again. David finally interjected. “Fiona, drop the passive-aggressive tone. Project materials are company property. As the project lead, Chloe has every right to access them.” Project lead. Those two words again. I turned my gaze to him. “David, I’d love to know, exactly how was this ‘project lead’ designated?” He scoffed. “It was a departmental decision. Do you have a problem with that?” “No problem.” I slowly stood up. “I just wanted to confirm one thing—the core algorithm for this project was written entirely by me. On all the patent application materials, the name under ‘Inventor’ should be mine, correct?” The conference room fell dead silent. David and Chloe exchanged another look. That look lasted for exactly two seconds. Only two seconds, but I saw it all clearly. My heart sank like a stone. “David,” I stared him down, “what is the current status of the patent application?” He let out a dry, awkward laugh. “It’s currently moving through the approval process.” “Who is listed as the inventor?” He didn’t answer. I pressed harder. “David, who is the inventor?” He averted his eyes, looking out the window. “Fiona, your only job right now is to enjoy your maternity leave. We can discuss everything else when you get back.” Suddenly, everything clicked into place. The realization felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured directly over my heart. I didn’t say another word, turned, and walked toward the door. “Fiona!” David yelled after me. “Don’t you dare go spouting nonsense about the project team. Otherwise—” I didn’t even look back. “Otherwise what?” He remained silent. I pushed the door open and walked out. At the far end of the hallway, I leaned against the wall and looked down at my stomach. A small patch of dark red had already soaked through my coat. My incision had torn open.

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I was selling some old furniture on Facebook Marketplace when a girl messaged me, haggling over the price. “Could you do twenty dollars lower?” “I’m still in college. I just had a huge falling out with my roommate and moved out. My boyfriend found me a new place.” “He’s loaded, and he says we’re getting married after I graduate, but I really don’t want to be a financial burden to him.” “Would twenty bucks less work? I can come pick it up myself!” Staring at the screen, I thought of my early college days with Cameron. I remembered pedaling a clunky rented bike for two hours in the freezing rain, just to save five dollars on subway fare. I was just a regular corporate drone now, but I was still doing better than a broke college kid. My heart softened. I agreed to the discount. That evening, two silhouettes appeared at the entrance of my apartment building. The girl’s face was glowing with pride. “See? I’m amazing, right? I got a washer in practically mint condition for less than a hundred bucks!” The man beside her looked down at her with absolute adoration. “Yes, yes, my baby is the smartest. But I make money so I can spoil you. You don’t need to pinch pennies for me.” “Your boyfriend is the CEO of Weston Holdings. You think I can’t afford to take care of you? Just this once, okay? Never again.” The man chuckled, lifting his head. The moment our eyes met, I froze entirely. It was Cameron. My boyfriend. The man who had kissed my forehead that morning and told me he was going on a three-month business trip to collect triple per diem. …… 1 The air turned to glass. I could clearly see the sheer panic and shock shattering the composure on Cameron’s face. I opened my mouth, a sound caught in my throat, but Cameron instantly shot me a harsh, warning glare. Peyton didn’t notice the silent collision between us. She just pouted, her voice dripping with the kind of bratty privilege only the young and adored possess. “I don’t want to be a freeloader! What if you get sick of me and dump me later?” She tugged his sleeve. “What are you looking at? Why are you ignoring me?” Cameron snapped out of his trance. He reached out and affectionately ruffled her hair. “How could I ever let you go?” Following his gaze, Peyton looked at the washing machine standing next to me. “It works fine, right?” I dragged myself back to reality. Forcing a painfully hollow smile, I walked her through the machine’s features. Suddenly, Cameron interrupted. “Why are you selling your furniture? Are you short on money?” I stared at him. Short on money? When is there ever enough money for people like me? Before I could answer, Peyton playfully punched his chest. “Don’t be rude!” She looked at me, her eyes filled with faux-apologetic sympathy. “Please don’t mind him. My boyfriend is just like that. He’s rich, so he doesn’t understand how normal people struggle.” She cast a teasing glance at Cameron, rolling up her sleeve to reveal a Cartier Love bracelet laced with crushed diamonds. “For my birthday, I told him I wanted a simple bracelet. I was going to save up six months of my allowance for it. Do you know what he did? He bought me the entire new season’s collection! Half the boxes in my closet don’t even have the ribbons untied yet!” Last summer, I had found a dress on the clearance rack for fifty dollars. Cameron had reached for his wallet, but I stopped his hand. I had smiled, pretending I didn’t care. “I can’t wear this to the office anyway. It’s a waste of money. Let’s just put it in our house fund, okay?” It wasn’t that I didn’t want it. It was because, just two days prior, Cameron had bitterly complained about being docked fifty bucks for clocking in late. “When I fought with my roommate, I just wanted to find a cheap sublet near campus,” Peyton continued, oblivious to the fact that she was tearing my chest open. “But he went out and bought a luxury penthouse in the Seaport. Put my name on the deed and everything! Two thousand a square foot! I could work my entire life and barely afford a closet in that building!” When Cameron and I had rented our apartment, I had screamed at our landlord until my throat was raw over a twenty-dollar hike in utility fees. Seeing me treated that way, Cameron had been so angry he almost broke the lease right there. But I refused to leave. I fought tooth and nail for that apartment—because it was two blocks from his “office,” meaning he could sleep an extra twenty minutes every morning. “And I love Taylor Swift, right? So he got me front-row VIP tickets! Ugh, hearing myself say all this, I really do sound like a sugar baby!” Peyton complained, but her voice was absolutely drowning in happiness. I stood in the shadows, the blood draining from my face until I was pale as a ghost. Cameron coughed uncomfortably. Peyton smacked her forehead, looking genuinely sheepish. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to flex on you.” She pulled out her phone. “Let’s add each other on Insta! If you ever have more stuff to sell, let me know!” Cameron reached out to stop her, but Peyton was quick, scanning my QR code before he could interfere. “I don’t want to rely on you for everything!” she teased him. “I’m an independent woman!” A sleek black Bentley was idling by the curb. Cameron sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in defeat. “Can I at least drive the machine back in the car? I don’t want to look like an idiot dragging a washing machine down the sidewalk.” When we first moved into our apartment, I had bought all our furniture secondhand. To save the sixty-dollar delivery fee, I had turned away the movers and dragged a solid wood dresser up four flights of stairs by myself. An idiot. That was what I looked like in his eyes. I stood paralyzed until the taillights of the Bentley disappeared around the corner. Only then did the oxygen rush back into my lungs. My phone buzzed. A text from Cameron: [It’s freezing out. Go inside. We’ll talk tonight.] I let out a broken, self-deprecating laugh, my hand instinctively coming up to rest over my slightly swollen abdomen. Cameron loved kids. Just a few days ago, I had been imagining the look on his face when I gave him the ultimate surprise. Now, it was nothing but a sick, twisted joke. Even knowing exactly who he was with right now, I impulsively dialed his number. Ring once. Declined. Ring twice. Declined. The third time, it went straight to voicemail. His phone was off. I looked down and realized my fingernails had bitten so deeply into my palms that they were bleeding. The cuts were small. But the numbness was spreading, freezing my heart entirely. I walked upstairs, sat in the dark, and accepted Peyton’s friend request. 2 Her Instagram was a shrine to his wealth. Cameron holding her hand under the Northern Lights in Iceland. Cameron chartering a yacht off a private island to celebrate their anniversary. In all these places I could never even dream of affording, they were laughing. It felt like someone had wrapped their hands around my throat. Breathing became a conscious, agonizing effort. It was past midnight when I finally heard the lock click. As soon as Cameron stepped inside, he scowled. “Why is it so freezing in here?” Our apartment was technically in the city, but the building was ancient and the radiator was essentially decorative. Everyone else in the building had moved out because of the cold. I was the only one who stayed, purely because the landlord had offered me six months of half-rent to act as the super. The bedroom door was cracked open. I didn’t speak, just exhaled a plume of white breath into the dark. Cameron walked into the bedroom, grabbed a heavy quilt, and wrapped it tightly around my shoulders without asking. His voice carried a heavy dose of irritation. “Is this how you take care of yourself when I’m not here? Natalie, how can I ever stop worrying about you if you act like this?” I shoved him away with everything I had. “Cut the crap. Is it fun for you? Playing make-believe with my life?” My pregnant body felt heavy, and I stumbled backward, barely catching my balance against the wall. Once upon a time, whenever I got mad at Cameron, he would just smile helplessly, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry, it’s my fault. I made my Nat angry. Punish me however you want.” But the Cameron standing in front of me now was ice cold. “How long are you going to make a mountain out of a molehill?” he demanded. He paused, his jaw tightening. “Peyton is young. She doesn’t know how to handle things on her own—” Something inside me snapped. “She’s young, so you have to play her billionaire boyfriend and take care of her?” I screamed. “What about me? How utterly pathetic must I be for you to put on Goodwill clothes and play poor just to make a fool out of me?!” A flash of genuine pain crossed Cameron’s eyes. He lunged forward, wrapping his arms around me from behind, pinning my arms to my sides. “Nat, please. Calm down!” I fought him with every ounce of strength I had, but I couldn’t break his grip. “Don’t touch me!” Click. The half-open front door swung wide. Peyton stood in the hallway, staring at us, her face pale with absolute disbelief. “What are you doing?” “Peyton?” Cameron’s face dropped. He let go of me instantly, his voice dropping an octave. “Why are you here?” Tears spilled over Peyton’s mascara. “Are you forgetting you made me share my location with you on my phone? I tracked your AirTag!” She pointed a trembling finger at me. “What is this? Did you want me to just stand outside and pretend I didn’t see you sleeping with this washed-up hag?!” She lunged forward and shoved me hard in the chest. “I trusted you! I can’t believe you’re such a desperate slut, trying to seduce my boyfriend!” I stumbled back. Cameron caught my arm, pulling me behind him, and glared at Peyton. “Stop it!” Peyton broke down completely. “Cameron Weston, you liar! You told me you were going to marry me!” She turned and ran sobbing down the stairs. Cameron instantly moved to chase after her. I grabbed his sleeve. “Wait. I need to tell you something—” He ripped his arm out of my grasp. “Let go! It’s the middle of the night. What if Peyton gets hurt out there?” He walked out without looking back. The force of his pull spun me around, and I crashed heavily to the floor, the side of my stomach slamming violently into the sharp corner of the coffee table. A sudden, blinding, tearing agony ripped through my abdomen. I felt a rush of wet heat between my legs. I brought my trembling hand down. Blood. So much blood. The piercing pain made the room spin. Fighting unconsciousness, I blindly grabbed my phone and dialed his number. “Cameron… please, help me. My stomach hurts so bad…” The very last thing I heard before the darkness took me was his impatient sigh through the speaker. “You’re sitting in your own apartment, Nat. What danger could you possibly be in? I just managed to calm Peyton down. Stop throwing a tantrum.” 3 When I opened my eyes, I was staring at the harsh fluorescent ceiling of a hospital room. It felt as though I had been run over by a freight train. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to sit up. “The baby…” I rasped. “My baby?” The nurse charting my vitals looked at me with a mixture of pity and disdain. “If your neighbor hadn’t noticed your door was wide open, you’d be in the morgue right now.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Look, honey, even if you didn’t want the kid, there are safe clinics for that. You can’t just throw yourself against a table to force a miscarriage.” A high-pitched ringing filled my ears. Cameron. He killed our baby with his own hands. Suddenly, my phone on the nightstand started vibrating violently. It was an avalanche of notifications. [Natalie, you’re a homewrecking whore! You’re fired. Don’t ever show your face at this firm again.] [Stealing a college girl’s boyfriend? You should rot in hell!] [If you’re that desperate for money, go walk the streets, you dirty slut!] Messages from coworkers. Messages from strangers. Hundreds of them. Peyton had posted a TikTok and a Reddit thread, doxxing me, painting me as the older, predatory mistress trying to ruin her fairytale. My body was already hollowed out from the miscarriage. A sharp, physical ache gripped my chest. I doubled over, clutching my hospital gown, unable to hold back a wretched sob. Right at that moment, Cameron called. My hands shook as I answered. “Cameron… we have been together for seven years!” I grew up with nothing. I had worked three jobs in college just to eat. On the day he confessed his feelings, Cameron had handed me a single bouquet, looking at me with total devotion. “Nat, I know I don’t have much right now. But I swear on my life, I will work until my hands bleed to give you a good life. I will never let you suffer.” When we first started dating, we could only afford one pack of instant ramen a night. Cameron would always force the only egg into my bowl. Now, the line was quiet for a second before his cold voice filtered through. “Peyton is young. She lacks a sense of security. She just posted some things online to vent. Stop making a big deal out of it.” He paused. “You’re not at the apartment. Where are you?” Years of suppressed exhaustion and grief suddenly erupted. “I’m in the hospital!” I choked out. “Our bab—” “Nat, you’re almost thirty. Playing the runaway teenager to get my attention is pathetic.” He cut me off before I could finish the sentence. His voice was laced with utter boredom. “You’ve always been tough as nails. You used to work three jobs a day and never caught a cold. There is no way you’re suddenly sick. Drop the act.” “Peyton is having a breakdown. I need you to come over here and apologize to her.” I stared at the wall, completely paralyzed by disbelief. “Peyton twists the truth to unleash a mob of internet trolls on me, and you want me to apologize?!” “Do you want me to just sit here and watch Peyton get cyberbullied into killing herself?!” Cameron’s voice exploded into a roar. When I didn’t answer, his tone dropped, turning low and lethal. “Nat. The bill for your mother’s private care facility. I’m the one paying it.” My heart stopped. My mother had been gravely ill for years. Last year, she had been in the ICU three times. Seeing me cracking under the pressure, Cameron had supposedly pooled all his savings to move her to a high-end, full-time care facility, covering the massive monthly bills himself. I had worked myself to the bone, picking up every freelance gig I could find, just so I could pay him back. I wanted our relationship to be equal. And now, he was using my dying mother as leverage. An unprecedented wave of exhaustion washed over me. Suddenly, I realized there was absolutely no point in arguing with this stranger anymore. Through my tears, I nodded to the empty room. Following the address Cameron texted me, I took a cab to the wealthiest gated community in the city. The blood loss had left me so weak I could barely stand. I dragged my feet toward the gate, but the security guard blocked my path. “I’m Cameron Weston’s girlfriend,” I said, my voice hoarse. He looked me up and down with obvious suspicion. After making a quick phone call to the mansion, the guard finally opened the gate. He didn’t bother hiding his sneer. “Everyone knows Mr. Weston’s girlfriend is Peyton. Lord, the audacity of side chicks these days. Marching right up to the front door.” When I entered the living room, Cameron was waiting. A satisfied smirk played on his lips. “Be a good girl, and I’ll keep covering your mother’s medical bills.” He led me to a tripod set up in the center of the room. A phone was already recording live. “We’re going to do a quick livestream. You will tell everyone that you were the mistress, and you will apologize to Peyton.” I snapped my head up, glaring at him with pure hatred. “You’re telling them I’m the mistress?” Peyton walked into the room, letting out a delicate, mocking laugh. “Cameron already went Instagram official with me months ago. If you aren’t the homewrecker, am I?” Cameron didn’t answer my question. He just frowned, shoving a piece of paper into my hands. “Nat. Behave.” “Just read from the script. Don’t overthink it. It’ll be over in a minute.” The paper was filled with lines confessing my jealousy of Peyton’s youth and beauty, detailing how I had manipulated and seduced Cameron to ruin their perfect relationship. 4 The moment the livestream started, thousands of viewers flooded in. The comment section instantly became a blur of vitriol, calling me a slut, a gold digger, a homewrecker. Peyton stepped into the frame, playing the gracious victim. “Please, everyone, be kind. She’s here to make amends today.” Under the gaze of thousands of strangers, I slowly lifted my head and gave a dead, hollow smile. “My name is Natalie. And I am here today to apologize.” I looked dead into the camera lens. “I apologize for letting this little mistress, Peyton, steal my boyfriend of seven years! I apologize for letting her twist the truth to sic an internet mob on me instead of dragging her through the mud where she belongs!” “I apologize for not keeping my mouth shut, and for refusing to play the blind, pathetic doormat!” Cameron lunged forward and killed the stream, but it was too late. The clip had already gone viral. Within minutes, #[PeytonMistress] was the number one trending topic. Cameron was so furious he let out a dark, manic laugh. “Nat. You are going to regret this.” He pulled out his phone. “Cancel all funding to the Mount Sinai care facility. Immediately.” My pupils dilated in sheer terror. Cutting off that funding meant pulling my mother’s life support! Cameron grabbed my wrist with a bruising grip and dragged me out the door, shoving me into the passenger seat of his car. “We’re going to the hospital! I’m going to make you watch exactly what your little tantrum costs your mother!” In the car, I broke down. I sobbed, begging him to leave my mother out of this. Seeing my tears, a flicker of hesitation crossed Cameron’s eyes. But he hardened his jaw and looked away. “You caused massive damage to Peyton’s reputation today. You have to pay the price.” He paused, his voice turning into ice. “You will get on your knees and bow your head to Peyton. When she decides to forgive you, I’ll turn the funding back on.” “If you refuse, then you better start planning a funeral.” My entire body shook violently. I bit my lower lip so hard the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. We arrived at the facility. Under Peyton’s cruel, triumphant gaze, I slowly bent my knees. They hit the cold linoleum floor. “I’m sorry. I was wrong.” I pressed my forehead to the floor, apologizing mechanically, stripped of every ounce of human dignity. Once. Twice. Again and again, until the skin on my forehead broke and blood trickled down the bridge of my nose. Cameron’s expression softened slightly. His phone rang, and he stepped out into the hallway to take the call, leaving me alone in the room with Peyton. The moment the door clicked shut, Peyton’s face contorted into something demonic. “You thought you could fight me for Cameron? This is what you get!” Before I could process her words, she lunged toward my mother’s bed. With a vicious yank, she ripped the oxygen tube from my mother’s throat and tore the IV line from her arm. “No—!” I screamed, scrambling up from the floor to tackle her, but Cameron’s bodyguards grabbed my arms, slamming me back into the floor. The heart monitor let out a piercing, continuous alarm. My mother’s face rapidly turned a sickening shade of purple. Her chest stopped moving. Her head lolled to the side. The last spark of life faded away. My mother was dead. I collapsed onto the floor, screaming until my vocal cords tore, crying tears that felt like acid burning my cheeks. Peyton instantly ripped at her own hair, messing up her clothes, and ran toward the door just as Cameron burst back in. She threw herself into his chest, sobbing hysterically. “Cam! I was just trying to fix her blanket, and Natalie went crazy! She attacked me! She said I didn’t deserve to live…” Cameron’s face turned murderous. He looked down at me. “Is your pride really worth this much to you, Natalie?! To avoid apologizing to Peyton, you’d rather let your own mother die?!” I let out a broken, deranged laugh. “Die? She was murdered! Peyton killed her!” Peyton cried harder, denying everything. Cameron looked at me with absolute disgust, convinced I was just spinning malicious lies. “You’d use your own dead mother as a prop to lie to my face? Since you refuse to repent, then live with the consequences!” He wrapped his arm protectively around Peyton and walked out of the room. Half an hour later, the official Weston Holdings PR account released a statement. [Mr. Cameron Weston’s relationship status has been public for months. Ms. Peyton is his one and only girlfriend.] [Ms. Natalie suffered severe psychological trauma during her school years, resulting in severe cognitive distortions and paranoid delusions. Everything she stated on the livestream is a fabrication.] Attached to the statement was a video. Grainy security footage of a teenage girl standing in a high school classroom, an older male teacher’s hand sliding up her skirt. A bomb went off in my brain. In high school, everyone knew I was the poor scholarship kid. A male teacher, knowing I had no money and no parents to protect me, had cornered me in his office. I had been too terrified to report it. Nobody would have believed me. Nobody would have stood up for me. That trauma haunted me into college. It gave me crippling anxiety and night terrors. I had almost taken my own life. Cameron was the one who pulled me out of the dark. He had held me tightly as I sobbed into his chest, whispering into my hair over and over again, “Nat, please don’t let a monster ruin your life. It wasn’t your fault.” “I will stay with you. I will protect you forever.” It was the most shameful, terrifying secret of my life. I had only ever told him. And he weaponized it. He ripped open my deepest wound, bleeding me dry just to wash his precious Peyton clean in the eyes of the public. He could go this far for her. There was no bottom. In the ashes of my ruined life, I smiled softly. I pulled a lighter from my pocket, flicked it, and tossed it onto the synthetic hospital curtains. Watching the flames roar to life, I turned to the window, opened it, and threw myself out into the void. Cameron Weston. From this moment on, we are entirely erased. Meanwhile, a few blocks away, Cameron was walking out of a boutique with Peyton when he noticed a massive plume of black smoke rising into the sky. A sudden, suffocating sense of dread clamped around his chest. He grabbed a passing pedestrian. “What happened over there?!” “The hospital is on fire! I heard someone burned to death on the VIP floor!”

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1 During a holiday get-together with my girlfriends, I accidentally clicked on a newly updated local trending post. [Live Stream: What’s it like hooking up with your best friend’s husband on her balcony?] The comment section was in an uproar, with everyone begging for the live stream and juicy details. The original poster quickly replied: [It’s so thrilling my scalp is tingling! Watching my bestie entertain guests in the living room through the glass door, while her husband pins me against the railing… and it’s snowing outside! The feeling of fire and ice is absolutely mind-blowing!] I scoffed, thinking it was just a made-up story for attention, and casually clicked on the live photo the poster had just uploaded. With just one glance, I froze. The vaguely visible figure in the photo was wearing the exact same red sweater as me. And the large hand gripping the woman’s waist had a black mole right on the web between the thumb and index finger—exactly identical to my husband’s. I immediately looked up at the tightly closed blackout curtains, faintly making out the intertwined silhouettes behind them. It had been half an hour since my husband said he was going to the balcony for a smoke, and my best friend, who had come over for the holidays, had also disappeared. Outside the window, heavy snow was falling; it was fourteen degrees out there. I got up, walked over to the balcony door, and with a soft click, I locked that highly soundproof, double-paned sliding glass door. Since they were pursuing the thrill of fire and ice, they might as well enjoy it out there to the fullest. … “Chloe, you’ve been married to Mark for three years now. Why haven’t you gotten pregnant yet?” “Exactly. A woman needs a child to secure her position. Otherwise, what will you do when you’re old?” “Your mother-in-law is so anxious her hair is turning white! You need to take this seriously!” In the noisy living room, several distant relatives surrounded my mom, spit flying as they talked. My mom’s smile was frozen on her face, and she could only keep giving me pointed looks. I kept my head down, pretending not to see, my fingers swiping rapidly across my phone screen. Today was New Year’s Eve, the big family reunion dinner at Mark’s hometown. I felt like an outsider, huddled in the corner of the sofa. My only shield was this warm phone. A newly trending local post title caught my eye. [Live Stream: What’s it like hooking up with your best friend’s husband on her balcony?] I scoffed. People these days will make up anything for traffic. The comment section had already exploded, with hundreds of replies begging for details. The original poster updated quickly. [It’s so thrilling my scalp is tingling! Watching my bestie entertain guests in the living room through the glass door, while her husband pins me against the railing… and it’s snowing outside! The feeling of fire and ice is absolutely mind-blowing!] I rolled my eyes and was about to scroll past when the poster uploaded another live photo. One photo. My finger instantly froze on the screen. The angle was tricky, like it was taken from extremely close up, pressed right against the glass door. The glass door reflected a blurry red figure in the living room. That red sweater was a New Year’s gift my mom had bought me just a few days ago, and I was wearing it right now. But the main subject of the photo was a large hand gripping the woman’s slender waist. On the web of that hand, there was a black mole. It was exactly the same as the mole on Mark’s hand, one I had kissed countless times. All the blood in my body rushed to my head in an instant, only to freeze into ice the next second. I looked up, staring dead at the tightly closed blackout curtains at the far end of the living room. Behind those curtains was the balcony. Mark had said he was going out for a smoke half an hour ago. My best friend, Sarah—the same Sarah who, just a second ago, was whispering in my ear about how sorry she felt for me and helping me fend off the relatives—said she was going to get me some fruit and had also vanished. I looked out the window. Heavy snow was falling; it was fourteen degrees out. In the living room, the relatives’ interrogation about me having a baby continued. “Chloe, I’m talking to you, did you hear me?” My mother-in-law’s sharp voice pierced through. I ignored her. I stood up and, under the gaze of dozens of eyes, walked step by step toward the balcony. The noise in the living room seemed to be muted. Everyone watched me. I walked up to the highly soundproof, double-paned sliding glass door. Behind the curtains, two intertwined silhouettes could be faintly seen, shaking frantically. I smiled. I reached out and grasped the door lock. Click. A soft sound as I locked the balcony door. Since they were pursuing a thrill, they might as well enjoy it to the fullest. 2 The sound of the lock clicking into place was quiet, but in the dead silent living room, it sounded like a thunderclap. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on me. “Chloe, what are you doing!” My mother-in-law was the first to react, her voice pitching up sharply. The silhouettes on the balcony also seemed to notice something and stopped their movements. I didn’t speak. I turned around, slowly walked back to the sofa, sat down, and picked up my phone again. As if the act of locking the door had just been a hallucination. “Why did you lock the balcony door? Mark is still out there smoking!” My mother-in-law rushed over, pointing her finger at my nose, demanding an answer. “Oh,” I didn’t even lift my eyelids. “He’ll open it himself when he’s done smoking.” “You!” Just then, loud banging sounds came from the balcony door. “Honey? Chloe? Why is the door locked?” Mark’s voice sounded muffled through the double-paned glass, but he couldn’t hide his panic. Immediately following was Sarah’s shrill voice: “Chloe, stop joking around, open the door quickly! It’s freezing out here!” The living room instantly erupted into chaos. “Why is Sarah on the balcony too?” “What’s going on with those two? What are they doing on the balcony on New Year’s Eve?” “Chloe, open the door right now!” An uncle stood up, speaking in a commanding tone. I looked at the still-updating thread on my phone screen. The poster had just posted another comment. [Fuck, I think the door is locked. My bestie didn’t find out, did she?] The comments below immediately derailed. [Holy shit! Live streaming getting caught in the act?] [OP is insane! This is getting spicy!] [Hurry! Start fighting! I want to see blood flowing like a river!] I pointed my phone screen at the loudmouth uncle and said coldly, “What’s the rush? They’re experiencing the thrill of fire and ice right now. Don’t interrupt them.” Everyone froze. My mother-in-law snatched my phone. With just one glance, the shock on her face rapidly turned pale, and finally twisted into an expression of unbelievable ferocity. She gripped the phone tightly, her knuckles turning white from the force. Her lips trembled, but she couldn’t utter a single word. “Mom! Open the door! I’m going to freeze to death!” Mark’s banging on the door grew heavier. “Chloe! I’m begging you! We know we were wrong! Just open the door first, please?” Sarah’s crying voice drifted in. In the living room, the relatives looked at each other in dismay. “What a sin!” My mother-in-law finally recovered, letting out a wail—not at me, but toward the balcony. “My son!” She turned to go open the door. I stuck my foot out and tripped her. My mother-in-law stumbled and almost fell flat on her face. “What are you doing!” She turned back and roared at me. “I locked it from the inside.” I looked at her calmly, as if stating a fact that had nothing to do with me. “I have the key.” I pulled the small deadbolt key from my pocket and dangled it in front of her. Watching her face twist with anger and terror, I almost laughed out loud. 3 “Rebellion! Total rebellion! She’s turning this house upside down!” My mother-in-law pointed a violently trembling finger at me, looking like she was having a stroke. “What sins did our family commit to marry such a bringer of bad luck! A barren hen who dares to try and murder her own husband!” She started throwing a tantrum, plopping down on the floor, slapping her thighs, and wailing. “Everyone, look! This venomous woman is trying to freeze my son to death outside!” Several relatives immediately surrounded me. “Chloe, you’re going too far. Whatever issues you two have, can’t you talk it out reasonably?” “Yeah, it’s New Year’s Eve. Making such a scene, what will the neighbors think?” “Open the door quickly! If they freeze any longer, someone could die!” They spoke one after another, each taking the moral high ground to judge me. Not a single person cared about me. In their eyes, Mark was the hope of their family, an elite making a six-figure salary. And I was merely an appendage attached to him, one who couldn’t even bear a child. My existence was just to highlight Mark’s excellence and maintain the family’s respectable image. And now, I was daring to challenge that respectable image. “Did you hear me?! I told you to open the door!” A burly cousin stepped forward, trying to get physical with me. I glared at him coldly: “Try touching me.” That cousin was pinned to the spot by my glare. The balcony door was being pounded thunderously. “Open the door! You bitch! Open the fucking door!” Mark finally tore off his disguise and started screaming curses. “If you don’t open it, I’ll smash this glass!” “Chloe, are you crazy?! That’s tempered glass, it’ll cost thousands to replace if you break it!” My mom rushed over, anxiously pulling my arm. “Mom.” I looked at her, enunciating every word. “From today on, in this house, what I say goes.” My mom froze, looking at me in disbelief. I turned my gaze back to my mother-in-law. She was still wailing on the floor, repeating the same phrases like “family misfortune” and “bringer of bad luck” over and over again. I picked up a cup of boiling water from the coffee table, walked over, and squatted in front of her. “Didn’t you want the key?” I held the cup up to her mouth. The scalding steam made her shrink back violently. “You…” She looked at me in terror, as if looking at a monster. “Drink it,” I said softly. “Drink it, and the key is yours.” The entire living room went dead silent. Everyone was shocked by my crazy action. 4 “Ah—!” My mother-in-law let out a scream and scrambled backward on all fours, as if trying to escape a plague. I didn’t push her further, slamming the cup down onto the floor in front of her with a clatter. Tea splashed out, burning her and making her flinch again. “Since you all want to save him so badly, fine.” I stood up and surveyed the silent relatives. “Whoever wants to open the door, come over here and drink this cup of water.” No one dared to move. They exchanged glances, the expressions on their faces a colorful display. There was terror, there was anger, but mostly, there was cowardice. This is human nature. When being generous at someone else’s expense, they are self-righteous saints. When the fire burns them, they become turtles pulling their heads into their shells for self-preservation. “Lunatic! You are a complete lunatic!” My mother-in-law pointed at me and screamed. “That’s right.” I nodded in acknowledgment. “I was driven crazy by your family.” I took out my phone, opened the live stream thread, and read out the disgusting comments and the poster’s explicit replies one by one. [OP, your body is so hot! Your husband must be bad in bed if he can’t satisfy you?] [Reply to above: Him? He’s a useless piece of trash, all show and no go. My bestie’s husband is much better!] That reply was posted five minutes ago. The faces of the relatives in the living room also turned a kaleidoscope of colors. Now, this monumental family scandal had been ruthlessly exposed by me. “Enough!” My mother-in-law suddenly sprang up from the floor, rushing over like a madwoman to snatch my phone. Smack! I backhanded her, slapping her hard across the face. The crisp sound made everyone gasp. My mother-in-law clutched her face, completely stunned, staring at me in disbelief. “You… you dare hit me?” “Hit you?” I sneered. “If you dare touch me again, I’ll make sure you spend the rest of your life in a wheelchair.” I wasn’t joking. Three years of marriage, her overt and covert humiliations, my endless tolerance toward Mark—it wasn’t because I was weak. It was because I loved him and wanted to save his dignity. Now that the facade was torn down, I had nothing left to worry about. “Smash it! Smash it for me!” My mother-in-law seemed to be drained of all her strength, collapsing onto the floor, pointing toward the balcony, screaming hoarsely, “Son! Smash the door open! If anything happens, Mom will take the blame!” Having received his mother’s command, Mark seemed pumped full of adrenaline. Bang! Bang! Bang! The double-paned glass door to the balcony groaned in agony, shaking violently. Sarah’s screams mixed with Mark’s curses. “You bitch! Just you wait!” “When I get in there, I’ll fucking kill you!” The relatives in the living room backed away in terror, afraid the glass would shatter and hit them. My mom clung to my arm tightly, trembling uncontrollably. “Chloe, let it go. Someone is going to die…” I looked at the door trembling under the heavy blows, at the two frantic figures behind it. I pulled out my phone, pointed it at the door, and pressed record. Then, I dialed 911. “Hello, police? I’m at…” Just as I gave the address, a hand struck my wrist hard. The phone flew out of my hand. It was my mother-in-law. She lunged at me like a madwoman, grabbing me by the throat. “You want to call the cops? You want to make our family a laughingstock for everyone? I’ll strangle you, you bitch!” 5 My mother-in-law’s nails dug deep into my flesh, and a wave of suffocation instantly washed over me. But I didn’t fight back; I just stared coldly at her, watching her face twisted with fury. “Strangle me,” I squeezed the words through gritted teeth. “Your son and that bitch will freeze to death out there. My life for theirs. Worth it.” My words acted like a bucket of ice water dumped over her head. Her grip on my throat suddenly loosened. Just then. Crash—! A massive explosion. The double-paned tempered glass of the balcony was smashed by Mark using a large ceramic planter. It was the outer pane. Glass shards exploded like hail, but the inner pane remained intact, only covered in a spiderweb of cracks. After smashing the glass, Mark seemed to have exhausted his strength. Through the cracks, he stared at me like a trapped beast. “This is all your fucking fault!” He suddenly turned on Sarah, violently shoving her to the ground. “Why did you post that thread?! You slut! Are you that desperate for attention?!” Sarah, her lips blue from the cold, cried and screamed: “Mark, you’re not human! You were the one who said it was thrilling! Now you’re blaming me? Are you even a man?!” “Shut up! If you hadn’t seduced me, would this have happened?!” This exchange completely shattered the psychological defenses of everyone present. “Murder!” Someone yelled, and the entire living room descended into absolute chaos. The relatives scattered and fled screaming, terrified the next planter would land on their heads. My mom was so scared she collapsed on the floor. Mark and Sarah were still fighting on the balcony. He was only wearing a thin dress shirt, his lips already purple from the cold. Sarah was in an even worse state; that sexy silk slip dress was completely soaked, clinging tightly to her body. Mark’s voice was impossibly hoarse. “I’m… begging you…” He had finally started begging me. My mother-in-law also snapped out of it, scrambling on her hands and knees to the door, crying through the glass: “Son! My son! How are you?” Then she turned around, looking at me with pleading, terrified eyes. “Chloe… no, good daughter-in-law… Mom is begging you, Mom will kneel for you! Open the door quickly, if you don’t, he really will die!” Saying that, she fell to her knees in front of me with a thud. The mother-in-law who had just been acting arrogant and domineering, who had tried to strangle me, was now kneeling at my feet. The living room was a disaster zone. The relatives who were bustling just moments ago had all fled without a trace. Only my mom, me, and my mother-in-law kneeling on the floor remained. And outside the door, the cheating couple, who were one step away from death. I looked at my mother-in-law kneeling on the floor, feeling absolutely no emotion. If you knew this would happen, why did you act that way in the first place? I slowly walked over and picked up my phone with its shattered screen. Luckily, it still worked. I opened the thread; the poster’s account had turned gray. Deactivated. Too bad it was too late. I had already taken screenshots of everything. I walked up to my mother-in-law and handed her the phone to look at. “Now you know how to beg me? Weren’t you acting so mighty when you called me a ‘barren hen’?” “I was wrong! It’s my foul mouth! I’m not human!” My mother-in-law raised her hand and slapped herself hard twice. “Chloe, as long as you open the door, from now on, you’re in charge of this house! I’ll work like a dog for you!” “Too late.” I pulled my phone back, looking past her to the dying man outside the door. The man I had loved for five whole years. “Mark,” I asked him, word by word, through the cracked glass, “Tell me, what did I ever do to wrong you?”

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I am the true heiress who was switched at birth. On the day I was supposed to reunite with my biological family, my ex-boyfriend was actually there. I gasped in surprise: “Liam?” My biological mother, completely unaware of the gravity of the situation, asked with a bright smile, “Mia, you know Liam?” I blurted out without thinking: “Of course. He’s my ex-boyfriend.” Seeing the color instantly drain from my biological mother’s face, it clicked. My ex-boyfriend was now my biological older brother. And so… The fake heiress, who had been gearing up for an Oscar-worthy performance, froze awkwardly. The youngest brother, who was ready to scream “I only acknowledge my old sister,” lost his voice. My biological father suffered a massive asthma attack on the spot, leaving my biological mother scrambling to feed him his inhaler. Then there was me, completely petrified. And my expressionless ex-boyfriend-turned-biological-brother. 1 “Mom, Dad, are they into some twisted sibling romance?” The first to react was the fake heiress, Serena. She pointed at me and Liam, her eyes wide, her lips parted in shock. After a few seconds of silence, I raised my hand and pointed at Liam. “He seduced me first.” Liam’s eyes darkened, staring fixedly at me. One second, two seconds… I suddenly burst into loud laughter. “Just a joke to lighten the mood!” “Mom, Dad, honestly, before I walked through that door, I didn’t know my ‘big brother’ at all, haha.” Liam smiled too. The corners of his lips slowly curled up as he looked at the dumbfounded Serena and the little brother. Then he looked at our parents, who had just caught their breath. “Isn’t it funny? Why aren’t you laughing?” After two seconds of silence, the youngest brother, Leo, who was still in high school, was the first to laugh out loud. “Hahaha, that joke was hilarious! I almost believed it.” “Dad, Mom, Serena, why aren’t you laughing?” He didn’t notice the look his parents and Serena were giving him—like they were looking at an idiot. The atmosphere instantly cooled down again. Once again, I regretted running my mouth the moment I walked in and saw a familiar face, purely out of surprise. “Let’s eat first,” Mr. Sterling said, breaking the awkward silence. Mrs. Sterling also recovered, affectionately taking my hand and leading me toward the dining room. “Mia, we weren’t sure about your tastes yet, so we had the chef prepare a little bit of everything.” She pulled me to sit between her and Mr. Sterling. “Mia, try this.” Mrs. Sterling picked up a piece of shrimp and was about to put it in my bowl. Liam looked over and frowned slightly. “Mom, Mia can’t eat shrimp. She’s allergic to seafood.” 2 The lobster dropped from her chopsticks onto the table. Mrs. Sterling stared blankly at Liam, the tremor in her voice incredibly obvious. “Liam, how do you know your sister is allergic to seafood?” My gaze collided violently with Liam’s, then quickly darted away. My scalp tingled. Fortunately, my brain worked fast, and I quickly came up with an explanation. “Mom, Liam and I both went to Ivy University, and we were in the same club before.” “During a club dinner, I mentioned my seafood allergy. Liam has a good memory, he must have remembered it from then.” Actually, no. It was because of Liam that I found out I was allergic to seafood. Before I met him, I had never eaten seafood. The moment I swallowed the first bite of shrimp, my heart started racing wildly, my chest tightened, and my cheeks flushed hot. I thought it was the thrill and excitement of being confessed to by love at first sight. It felt like my heart was skipping a beat. But the moment Liam finished his confession… Before I could even say “I like you too,” I was suffocated by my increasingly rapid heartbeat, my vision went black, and I passed out. When I woke up in the hospital, I had been on an IV drip for three days. “Is what your sister said true, Liam?” Mrs. Sterling was half-skeptical, her hand unconsciously tightening around her chopsticks. Liam’s expression didn’t show a single ripple. “Yeah. What she said is true.” 3 For the rest of the dinner. Besides Liam and me, the other three had complex expressions, glancing at each other from time to time. After dinner, Mrs. Sterling took my hand and led me upstairs. “Mia, before you came back, Mom prepared a few rooms for you. Take a look, which one do you like?” I didn’t have many demands for a room; as long as it had a bed that could fit me, it was fine. But after looking at several rooms decorated in a sickeningly sweet pink, I realized I did have demands. So, when passing by a room with a minimalist design, I stopped. “I’ll take this one.” “No!” Mr. and Mrs. Sterling rejected me in unison. I was confused. “Why not?” They exchanged a conflicted look. “This room is too small.” “This room isn’t suitable for you.” It was Serena, eager to stir up drama, who explained: “Sister, the room directly across from this one is Liam’s bedroom.” I looked at Mrs. Sterling, and she guiltily avoided my gaze. I was understanding and smiled, “Then I’ll pick another one.” Finally, I chose a room that was quite out of the way. Of all the empty rooms, it was the furthest from Liam’s. The two rooms weren’t even on the same floor. One was on the second floor, the other on the fourth. Unless Liam was sleepwalking or specifically looking for me, he wouldn’t pass by my bedroom. “I’m heading out,” Liam, who had been silent the whole time, suddenly spoke up. I watched him walk toward me, then expressionlessly bypass me. “There’s a problem with a project that needs urgent handling. I won’t be coming back tonight.” 4 After drying my hair, I prepared for bed. There was a sudden knock on my bedroom door. The person outside didn’t speak, so I was sure it wasn’t Mr. or Mrs. Sterling. I didn’t want to answer, but the knocking grew louder. I frowned, got up, and opened the door. Standing outside was indeed Leo. His tone was aggressive. “I knocked for ages! Why did it take you so long to open the door?” Ever since I walked in, this kid hadn’t given me a single good look. Naturally, I had no patience for him either. “Knocking on my door in the middle of the night. What do you want?” Leo lifted his chin, his face full of disdain. “Let me make this clear right now. I only have one sister, and that’s Serena.” “Don’t delude yourself into thinking I’ll ever acknowledge you as my sister.” Provoking me right to my face? How dare he be so arrogant. My patience completely ran out. I raised my hand. Slap. A firm slap landed on Leo’s face. I sneered, staring straight at him. “Two choices. Either I’m your sister, or I’m your sister-in-law. Pick one.” Leo held his cheek, his eyes full of absolute disbelief at my slap. He froze for four or five seconds before my words finally registered in his brain. His expression instantly crumbled. “Wh-what do you mean? Are you and my brother really…” I raised my hand, pretending I was going to slap him again. Leo panicked and shrank back two steps in fear. Recovering, his mouth twitched slightly, his eyes a mix of panic and grievance. After holding it in for a long time, he gritted his teeth and squeezed out one word: “Sister.” I was satisfied with Leo’s tactfulness. “Good. That’s a good boy.” “Little brother, go back to sleep.” Leo turned to leave, but after taking four or five steps, he abruptly turned back. I raised an eyebrow. He stared at me intensely, his voice low and heavy. “You and my brother are biological siblings.” “Biological! Don’t do anything crazy.” It wasn’t until I heard the sound of Leo’s door closing downstairs that I looked up toward the corner of the hallway. “Big brother, didn’t you say you weren’t coming back tonight?” 5 Liam walked out from the corner. Those familiar eyes were completely shrouded by the shadow of his brow bone, making it impossible to read his emotions. He kept his gaze low, casually loosening the tie at his neck. “Handled it early.” “Haven’t seen you in two years, so I came up to say hello.” His tone was very flat. As he approached, a faint scent of alcohol drifted over. I asked him, “Are you drunk?” He denied it quickly: “No.” A moment of silence. My brain inappropriately started churning out random thoughts. I vaguely remembered a phrase that perfectly suited our current atmosphere. It was something like— Lovers destined to become siblings. Realizing I was laughing internally, I quickly collected myself and played along with his previous words. “It really has been two years.” After we broke up, I unilaterally cut all contact with him. Calculating it, it had been exactly two years, one month, and nineteen days. During the pause in our conversation, I instinctively studied him. Liam noticed my gaze and subtly straightened his posture. I looked at him very seriously. Compared to two years ago, Liam was much more mature. Somewhere between the bright clarity of a youth and the steady maturity of a man, he was even more dazzling. He truly lived up to being the man I fell in love with at first sight two years ago. Compared to when we first met, there were even more things about him that made my heart race. Thinking this, the dirty thoughts in my brain unconsciously kicked my rationality to the curb. My unfiltered mouth blurted out, “I feel like you’ve gotten even sexier.” “Cough, cough.” Realizing what I had just said, I almost choked on my own saliva. At the same time, my rationality returned, and I quickly backed away to distance myself from Liam. I lost my mind. My current identity is his biological sister! Fire prevention, theft prevention, incest prevention. “Stop!” I rejected his movement to approach me. “We’ve said our hellos. You can go back to your room now.” His eyes darkened considerably. “You’re the one who provoked me.” I was very candid. “That’s because I forgot my identity for a second.” “Liam, I am now just your sister.” “If there’s nothing else, let’s call it a night.” Today, Mr. Sterling had an asthma attack right on the spot from the shock of hearing that Liam and I used to date. My mind went blank at the time, and the fear only set in afterward. Older people can’t handle too much shock. If he found out that in the middle of the night, Liam and I were secretly talking behind everyone’s backs, his body probably wouldn’t be able to take it. “Give me a strand of your hair.” I didn’t hear him clearly and frowned. “What did you say?” “Give me…” “Liam, Mia, what are you doing?” Mrs. Sterling’s horrified voice suddenly rang out. I turned to look. She was standing at the top of the stairs, looking at us with a pale face. “Mom, what are you doing here?” Liam asked calmly. “I-I got thirsty and came out for some water.” “But it’s almost midnight. Liam, if you have something to say to your biological sister, couldn’t it wait until tomorrow? Why in the middle of the night?” I don’t know if it was just my imagination, but I felt like Mrs. Sterling emphasized the words “biological sister” very heavily. But didn’t Mrs. Sterling have a mini-fridge or a water dispenser in her bedroom? My bedroom had a double-door fridge stocked with ridiculously expensive bottled water. Besides, Mrs. Sterling’s bedroom was on the second floor. Why would she come to the fourth floor for water? Liam lowered his eyes slightly and didn’t answer immediately. After a moment of silence, he explained in a natural tone. “I had a few drinks at the dinner meeting, and felt thirsty when I got back. I don’t know how, but I wandered up to the fourth floor.” “I saw Mia standing at her door, so I came over to say goodnight.” 6 The next day, I had classes in the morning. The Sterling family’s driver dropped me off near the university. I told him not to pick me up at noon. After my two classes ended, I returned to the apartment I had rented a little over a month ago for my internship. I pushed the door open. The person on the bed was sprawled out, sleeping soundly. I dragged the person out from under the covers. “Chloe, it’s 1 PM! Wake up!” “I went to see your family yesterday.” Chloe was dazed and groggy for a moment. When she fully woke up, she quickly sat up and shook my arm. “Yesterday? Wasn’t the meeting scheduled for the 13th? Why did you go early?!” I said exasperatedly: “I told you to stop staying up late. You’ve fried your brain.” “Yesterday was the 13th.” Chloe and I grew up in the same orphanage. The difference was, she had been there since she was a baby. All the children in the orphanage took the director’s surname, “Su”. The day she arrived, the director’s jasmine flowers (Mo-li) were in full bloom, so she was named Su Mo (Chloe). As for me, Mia, I entered the orphanage when I was six, after both my parents died in a car accident. Because our names sounded similar and we were the same age, Chloe and I had stuck together since childhood, becoming each other’s closest family. However, our personalities were complete opposites. A week ago, the orphanage director told Chloe that her biological parents had been found. After hearing the good news, she hugged me and jumped around for ages, her eyes sparkling. “Mia, I have a mom and dad!” But when she found out her parents were the owners of a famous national enterprise… And that there was a fake heiress who had taken her place and lived the high life in the Sterling family for over twenty years, Chloe instantly deflated. Because she had been abducted by human traffickers when she was little, she suffered from severe paranoia. Chloe firmly believed that if she returned to the Sterling family, the fake heiress would definitely harm her. That night, she curled up in bed, flipping through various “true vs. fake heiress” novels while wailing: “It’s over, it’s over. Mia, I know this plotline.” “Classic true vs. fake heiress trope. If I, the true heiress, go back, I’ll definitely get bullied.” Ever since she escaped from the human traffickers, Chloe could only communicate freely and comfortably in front of me and the director. The moment she faced strangers, she would stutter and even have trouble breathing. With a personality like that, people easily thought she was a pushover. “Look at these novels. The fake heiress plays weak to get sympathy, and the family loses their minds and favors her completely.” “A true heiress like me will either get framed or kicked out of the house. Either way, the ending is extremely tragic.” The more Chloe spoke, the angrier she got, flipping the novel on her lap furiously. But her eyes hid a very real, genuine panic. Finally, she made up her mind. “Just in case, I’m not going to reunite with them.” “According to the plot developments in these novels, if I return to the Sterling family, my future will be miserable, and I might even drag you down with me.” But I couldn’t forget the joy she showed when she learned she still had family. So, I took on Chloe’s identity and entered the Sterling family to investigate the situation. To see if the fake heiress felt ashamed towards Chloe and harbored good intentions? To see if the Sterling family would completely favor the fake heiress like in the novels? To see if the members of the Sterling family were all profit-driven, ruthless people who only thought about fighting for power and wealth every second? Currently, aside from Serena and Leo, the other three had a pretty good impression score in my heart. But right now, that wasn’t the main point. Before Chloe could ask about my experience at the Sterling house yesterday, I took a deep breath. “We need to tell your parents the truth earlier than planned.” Chloe’s eyes widened slightly. “Why?” “Because if we don’t switch back soon, your oldest brother is going to be forced to move abroad.”

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During my most innocent year, I kidnapped the aloof, pure campus idol in the middle of the night. Just as I was about to make my move, a barrage of floating comments suddenly flashed in my mind: [The female supporting character better know her place and let the male lead go! He belongs to our female lead!] [Don’t worry, the villainess is just a paper tiger. She doesn’t have the guts to actually do anything. She’s the only G-rated part of this whole R-rated novel.] [The male lead already hated her spoiled rich girl act anyway. Now he’s definitely going to despise her.] The more comments I read, the angrier I got. You tell me not to do it? I’m going to do it even harder. Since he hates looking at me, I’ll make sure he watches me enjoy myself. 1 Just yesterday, my childhood friend, Liam, publicly rejected my confession in favor of the innocent “white lotus,” Mia. Feeling thoroughly humiliated, and knowing that Mia secretly had a crush on the poor, aloof campus idol, Ethan, I angrily decided to become his sugar mommy. But Ethan turned out to be a tough nut to crack. He took the money but refused to be obedient. So, I had him kidnapped overnight, ready to teach him a lesson. Ethan was half-kneeling on the floor, his hands bound behind his back with my necktie. He had probably just taken a shower; water droplets were still clinging to his hair. His dress shirt was quickly becoming damp from the dripping water. I looked down at him from a position of power, enjoying his humiliated and angry expression. “Didn’t I tell you to ignore Mia? Why are you taking my money and not doing your job?” Ethan kept his face completely blank, staring at me expressionlessly. It was as if my words held absolutely no threat to him. I was so angry I almost slapped him, but seeing his god-tier face, I changed my mind. If Mia knew that the untouchable flower on a high peak she idolized was being trampled by me, it would be quite entertaining. I extended my foot, letting my toe slide slowly up from the open collar of his shirt. I maliciously patted his cheek. “If you’re going to be a kept canary, you need to act like one. Did you really think my money was that easy to take?” “Instead of acting tough here, you should be figuring out how to please me.” Ethan’s ears burned red, and he glared at me resentfully: “Chloe, don’t go too far.” I tilted my head and leaned in close, tapping my own red lips: “Think about your alcoholic dad, your sick mom, and your sister who needs tuition.” Ethan hesitated for a long time before finally choosing to submit. He closed his eyes in agony and slowly leaned toward my lips. Right at that moment, the floating comments suddenly appeared: [The female supporting character better know her place and let the male lead go! He belongs to our female lead!] I was startled and instinctively dodged Ethan’s kiss. The comments started scrolling faster and faster, a massive wave of information overwhelming me. I couldn’t believe that someone as beautiful and rich as me was actually just a female supporting character in a novel! The comments popped up again: [Ahhh, I hate these plots where the female side character bullies the male lead! Our male lead’s purity belongs only to the female lead!] [Don’t worry, the villainess is just a paper tiger. She doesn’t have the guts to actually do anything. She’s the only G-rated part of this whole R-rated novel.] [The male lead already hated her spoiled rich girl act anyway. Now he’s definitely going to despise her.] The more I read, the more furious I became. You tell me not to do it? Watch me. Since he hates looking at me, I’ll make sure he watches me enjoy myself. Out of pure spite, I planted a forceful kiss right on Ethan’s lips. 2 Ethan didn’t expect me to kiss him so suddenly and instinctively tried to pull back. I grabbed his head, refusing to give him a chance to escape, and slowly deepened the kiss. Clearly, neither of us had any experience; the kiss was clumsy. Soon, I was out of breath and pulled away. Ethan, however, seemed mesmerized and involuntarily chased my lips for a second. Realizing what he had just done, his face flushed bright red with embarrassment and anger. Panting slightly, I mocked him without holding back: “Your kissing skills suck.” Ethan’s body went rigid. He wanted to retort. But seeing my wet, glistening lips, he pressed his own together and said nothing. For some reason, a wave of heat washed over me and wouldn’t go away. Feeling flustered, I picked up the glass of milk nearby and took a sip. Accidentally, some milk spilled down my fingers. I held my hand up to Ethan’s lips with a look of disdain: “Lick it clean for me.” Ethan’s pupils shrank, and he stared at me in absolute disbelief. As if I had asked him to commit some heinous crime. I hated it when he took my money but still acted like some pure, untouchable saint. I frowned in displeasure and wiggled my pale, delicate fingers: “What? You don’t want to?” “If you don’t want to, you can get the hell out.” I could tell he was genuinely angry. The veins on his forehead were throbbing. The corners of his eyes turned a faint, alluring red, and his voice was hoarse and deep: “Chloe, you’ll regret this.” I ruthlessly shoved my fingers into his mouth, smiling wickedly: “Oh? Is that so? Then I’ll wait for the day I regret it.” “Today is just a little lesson. If you don’t behave, I’ll punish you like this again.” The comments exploded: [Tsk tsk, arrogant, radiant rich girl VS aloof, pure campus idol. I’m kind of shipping this.] [What are you shipping? The villainess is doing this; the male lead definitely wants to hack her into a million pieces.] [Exactly! I bet they’re going to have a Bad Ending. Anyone else want to place a bet?] 3 Early the next morning, when I ran into Ethan in the classroom, he looked at me like I was a complete stranger. As if last night had never happened. There were plenty of empty seats in the college lecture hall, and Ethan usually sat in the corner. He always put his backpack on the seat next to him, radiating a “do not disturb” aura. The girls around Mia were all encouraging her to go over and ask if she could sit next to him. I originally couldn’t be bothered, but the comments triggered my competitive spirit. [Just wait and see. The male lead only makes exceptions for the female lead.] [I remember it’s starting from today that they sit together often, and their relationship takes a huge leap forward, right?] While Mia was still hesitating, I walked straight over. Ethan looked up at me expressionlessly. I pointed at his backpack, signaling him to move it: “I’m sitting next to you from now on.” Ethan obediently moved his bag. As soon as I sat down, Mia’s eyes welled up with tears. The girls around her immediately swarmed over to attack me: “Chloe, why do you have to oppose Mia at every turn? Just because Liam rejected you doesn’t mean you can take your anger out on her!” “Yeah, exactly. She’s so jealous. The moment she saw Mia wanted to sit here, she immediately stole the spot.” Mia put on a show of trying to stop them, her voice thick with fake tears: “Don’t say that. Chloe sat down first. Don’t think so badly of her.” “Mia, you’re just too kind, that’s why people bully you.” “Right, exactly. You can’t just let people like her walk all over you.” I calmly placed my books on the desk, not even sparing them a glance: “Get lost!” “Who do you think you are…” “You get lost too!” Seeing that the class bell was about to ring, they finally scattered. “Whatever, don’t bother arguing with someone like her. You might get bitten.” 4 I realized early on that whenever Mia and I were in the same room, no matter what I did, people would criticize me. It was as if even my breathing was wrong. But whatever. I’ll just be the villainess to the bitter end. The comments debated amongst themselves: [The female lead’s plot armor is too strong. The villainess gets criticized for literally everything. Who wouldn’t be mad? No wonder she hates the female lead.] [What can you do? She’s not the female lead. She just has to take it.] [To the commenter above: Does the female supporting character not have the right to be respected? Does the whole world have to revolve around the female lead?] Because it was a boring lecture, I accidentally dozed off halfway through. When I woke up, I realized I was resting my head on Ethan’s arm. Seeing that his arm was a bit stiff, I apologized awkwardly: “Sorry. You could have just woken me up.” Ethan looked at me, a flicker in his eyes, and said flatly: “Don’t misunderstand. I just noticed that when you weren’t resting on my arm, you snored so loudly you were disrupting the class.” I scratched my head in embarrassment, wondering since when I started snoring. 5 Normally, I would badger my childhood friend, Liam, into having lunch with me. But seeing Mia next to him, I instantly lost interest. Before Mia showed up, Liam was really good to me. So good that I thought he liked me too. But after my confession was rejected, I realized the truth: just like he said, he only saw me as a little sister. As I walked past them, Liam instinctively and somewhat impatiently moved to make room for me. When he saw me sit down next to Ethan instead, his gaze froze for a second. Because we weren’t far apart, I could clearly hear them talking. “Liam, Chloe probably sat over there just to get your attention. Do you want to call her over?” “Ignore her. She’s always been spoiled like this. In a few days, she won’t be able to take it anymore and will come back on her own.” I felt absolutely nothing hearing these insignificant words. Instead, I looked with slight disgust at the bland food on Ethan’s tray: “You have money now, why are you still being so frugal?” Ethan kept his head down, eating without looking at me: “Habit.” I proactively pushed my tray toward him: “But I like my canaries to have a little more meat on their bones. You’re a bit too skinny.” Ethan choked violently, his ears turning an unnatural red. He lowered his eyelids and asked, seemingly casually: “Are you only treating me this well to make Liam mad?” I had nothing to hide from Ethan, so I told the truth: “To be exact, it’s to make Mia mad.” “But…” Ethan looked up, watching me curiously: “But what?” I suddenly leaned in closer and lowered my voice: “If you feed me a bite, I’ll tell you.” Ethan awkwardly turned his head away: “Boring.” I raised an eyebrow noncommittally. I contentedly enjoyed the sight of Mia, sitting a short distance away, biting her lip and looking as if she had suffered a massive injustice. In short, if she’s unhappy, I’m happy. When school ended, a torrential downpour washed over the previously sunny sky. Just as I walked out the school gates, the comments flashed again: [Ooh, is the equipment room scene with the male and female leads happening this soon?] [Both of their clothes are soaked from the rain. In a confined space, it’s impossible not to have some sparks fly.] [Exactly. After this, the male lead can’t stop dreaming about the female lead.] I changed direction and headed straight for the equipment room. 6 Sure enough, as soon as I walked in, I saw a soaking wet Ethan. His white dress shirt clung to his lean waist, outlining the sexy lines of his abs. As expected of the male lead—looks slim with clothes on, but muscular underneath. Perhaps my scrutinizing gaze was too direct. Ethan shifted uncomfortably into the shadows: “What are you doing here?” I walked up to him and waved the umbrella in my hand: “To take you home, obviously.” Just then, footsteps suddenly echoed from outside. Ethan grabbed me and pulled me behind a vaulting horse. We were so close our skin was practically touching. I looked at him, amused: “We have nothing to hide. Why are we sneaking around?” Ethan seemed to realize this too and instinctively tried to push me away and step out. Taking advantage of the movement, I hooked my arms around his neck. Hearing Mia’s voice, I mouthed the words to him: “Kiss me.” Ethan’s entire body went rigid, his heart beating wildly against my chest. Seeing he still wasn’t moving, I wickedly nipped his prominent Adam’s apple. Ethan clenched his fists, the veins on the back of his hands bulging. Perhaps afraid I would do something even more outrageous, he compromised, lowering his head and pressing his lips to mine. Feeling the cold touch of his lips, I pried open his tightly pressed mouth, guiding him to kiss me deeper. In the quiet equipment room, the sound of our breathing slowly grew heavier. Mia, standing a short distance away, clearly noticed something was wrong and called out in our direction: “Is anyone there?” I didn’t want her to see us being intimate just yet. Hearing the approaching footsteps, I proactively tried to back away. But Ethan wrapped an arm around my waist, leaving me no room to retreat. I panicked and frantically threw his jacket over our heads. Unfortunately, the jacket was too small and only covered Ethan. Mia recognized me almost immediately. “Chloe, you!” A camera flash went off, and Mia ran out of the room. Ethan had gone a bit too far this time. I had to bite his lip hard to get him to release me. The comments exploded: [Holy shit, I looked away for a second and the male lead and the villainess are kissing?! And the female lead saw them?!] [Did you guys see how lost in the moment the male lead looked? Could he actually be falling for the villainess?] [What nonsense! The villainess obviously forced him, okay?] I pushed Ethan away, annoyed: “You were very disobedient this time.” “What, are you going to teach me another lesson like last time?” If Ethan hadn’t brushed past my shoulder as he walked out, I almost would have thought I was hearing things. Did those words actually just come out of his mouth? 7 Early the next morning, two things happened that seriously pissed me off. First, the photo of Ethan and me kissing had been circulated. Because his face was covered by the jacket, a lot of nasty rumors started flying around. The underlying message was that I was promiscuous and lacked “female virtue.” To be fair, why wasn’t anyone saying the guy lacked “male virtue”? Second, Liam came up to me with a dark face and demanded an explanation: “Chloe, who is the guy in the photo? Why were you kissing him?” “Just because I rejected your confession? Do you have so little self-respect?” Mia chimed in, trying to play peacemaker: “Liam, even though Chloe moved on a bit quickly, she has the right to like other people!” Liam’s face grew even colder. His dark eyes stared at me intently. It gave me the creeps. I met his gaze head-on, my tone defiant: “Since when do I have to report my relationships to you, my ‘big brother next door’?” “You’re overstepping! And don’t think you’re that important to me.” With that, I turned on my heel and walked away. I could feel his burning gaze drilling into my back. He obviously didn’t like me, yet he still wanted to control me. It was completely ridiculous. Clearly, I had underestimated the butterfly effect caused by that photo. Even my professor was considering revoking my opportunity to enter a major competition. Feeling frustrated, I sat in a small bar, drinking. I don’t know how Ethan found me. He didn’t do anything; he just sat silently beside me. I think I was genuinely drunk. I hugged him and kept asking over and over: “Ethan, am I really a bad person? Why does everyone assume the absolute worst about me?” By the end, I couldn’t tell if it was my imagination or if he actually said: “You’re wonderful.” 8 When I woke up again, I stared in deep thought at Ethan, who was lying next to me, bare-chested. The hickey on his neck didn’t look fake. The scratch marks on his body didn’t look fake. And the comments discussing it definitely weren’t fake: [Are you saying the villainess unleashed her inner beast yesterday and pinned the male lead to the bed and kissed him?] [If the villainess has any conscience left, she should buy the male lead a new shirt. That perfectly good shirt was ripped to shreds.] [All the steam was supposed to be with the female lead, and now only the villainess is getting any action!] As soon as I turned on my phone, Liam’s missed calls nearly blew it up. I had 99+ unread messages on WeChat. Feeling a sense of dread, I clicked into my “Moments.” Nine photos showing Ethan and me kissing from every possible 360-degree angle were sitting right there. The caption was: [So what if we kissed? I kiss whoever I want! I kiss whoever I want!] While I was still reeling from shock, Ethan calmly stood up and started putting on his shredded, rag-like shirt. I facepalmed: “Don’t wear that. Stay here, I’ll go buy you some new clothes nearby.” Thank goodness it was the weekend, and I wouldn’t run into anyone I knew… I stared speechlessly at Liam, who was sitting by the door with dark circles under his eyes. “What are you doing here?” The comments were having a field day: [Did this guy sit outside the door listening to the villainess and the male lead hook up all night? Is he traumatized?] [Apparently he knocked on the door a few times, and the villainess literally pinned the male lead against the door and kissed him, telling Liam to get lost and stop ruining the mood.] [This idiot second male lead, why didn’t he take the opportunity to steal the female lead instead of hanging around the villainess?] Seeing his dark, silent gaze, I turned to leave. Liam grabbed my wrist, his eyes bloodshot as he looked at me: “Break up with him.” I pried his fingers off one by one, my voice icy: “If you have this much free time, go check on your precious Mia. Don’t interfere with my business.” When I got back, Liam was gone, and Ethan had cleaned the room spotlessly. I handed him the clothes I bought: “Once you’re dressed, you can go. I want to rest some more.” Ethan slowly buttoned up his shirt, looking at me with dissatisfaction: “Am I just a tool to you? You use me and then throw me away.” I spat out the water I had just taken a sip of. Liam was acting weird, and Ethan was acting even weirder. That sentence sounded completely wrong no matter how you sliced it. I rubbed my aching forehead and brushed him off: “You know we have a strictly financial relationship. What I did wasn’t out of line.” Ethan was clearly unhappy. He left with a dark expression on his face. 9 Since the “kissing gate” incident, everyone assumed Ethan and I were dating. But Ethan, holding a grudge over how I brushed him off, ignored me for days. In everyone else’s eyes, our relationship looked like I was just desperately chasing after him. Ding-dong. A notification popped up on my phone. It was a birthday party invitation from Liam. I couldn’t help but frown. I didn’t want to go, but the Liam and Chloe families were close. If I didn’t show up, my parents would definitely nag me. If this were the past, I would have spent so much time and effort picking out a gift for him. Now? Whatever. I’ll just buy something random. Who cares if he likes it or not. Mia showed up at the birthday party too. Coincidentally, we both bought him perfume. Except, she bought a woody scent, and I bought an aquatic scent. I sat quietly in the farthest corner, trying to make myself invisible. But Mia just had to call me out publicly: “Chloe, you’ve known Liam for so long, you couldn’t possibly not know he prefers woody scents, right?” Before I could say a word, Liam spoke up: “Mia, you’re talking too much.” I was confused. The comments were even more confused: [Oh my god, wasn’t today supposed to be the plot where the second male lead, desperate to get the female lead, drugs her with an aphrodisiac? Why does this situation look so wrong?] [Am I the only one who noticed the color of the red wine in the villainess’s hand looks a little off?] I stared at the half-empty glass of red wine in my hand, deep in thought. Why didn’t you guys wait until I was dead to tell me?! 10 Soon, I felt my body burning up and my mind growing hazy. Realizing something was wrong, I stumbled out of the room, heading for the restroom. Halfway down the hall, a hand suddenly yanked me into a storage closet. The closet was dim, but I clearly smelled the scent of cedar coming from behind me. It was Liam. He slowly pinned my hands behind my back, his voice hoarse: “Chloe, you’ve been really disobedient lately.” I panicked and struggled with all my might. “Liam, do you know what you’re doing?! Let me go!” Liam took off his glasses, brushed a strand of my hair aside, and took a light sniff: “I still prefer it when you call me ‘Liam’ like you used to.” “Liam, don’t cross the line. If you keep this up, I’ll scream—mmph!” This aggressive kiss was incredibly repulsive. I got vicious and bit down hard. The metallic taste of blood quickly filled both our mouths. But the harder I bit, the more into the kiss Liam became. Pain acted like an aphrodisiac for him. This was the first time I fully realized… He was a psychopath.

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My son and I were kidnapped. The kidnappers live-streamed our ordeal online, threatening to chop my son into pieces and feed him to dogs if the ransom wasn’t paid. Instantly, the entire internet was searching for my husband. But what they didn’t know was that at the exact same moment, trending alongside our kidnapping, was the city’s wealthiest billionaire announcing his new relationship with a famous actress, looking like the picture-perfect, happy family of three. That billionaire was my husband, the father of my child. Seeing those two trending topics side-by-side was truly laughable. Later, taking pity on my son, the kidnappers only took one of his hands. Dragging his bleeding, empty left sleeve, he crawled all the way home, only to stumble upon my husband celebrating the birthday of his “first love’s” child. My husband frowned. Looking at my son’s curled-up, trembling body, his eyes were ice-cold: “Truly Chloe’s child. You only know how to play the victim, just like your mother.” My son looked up. Using his only remaining hand, he tugged at my husband’s pant leg. “Mister… could you please lend me some money so I can bury my mom?” 1 It was the twenty-third hour since my son and I were taken and tortured by the kidnappers. Arthur Sterling, the wealthiest man in the city, was busy celebrating the sixth birthday of his “first love’s” child. I had dialed his number for help eighty-eight times. Every single time, I got a busy signal. Furious, the kidnapper grabbed me by the hair and dragged me in front of my son, his face contorted with rage. “Isn’t Arthur Sterling your husband?! Why the hell won’t the call go through?!” “Are you dialing the wrong number on purpose to stall for time?!” As he yelled, he violently ripped out clumps of my hair, taking patches of scalp with them. The sheer agony contorted my face instantly. Tossing the bloody hair onto the ground, the kidnapper sneered, spat in my face, and threatened: “I’m giving you one last chance. If the call doesn’t go through this time, don’t blame me for being ruthless.” He pointed at my son, who was pale with terror. It was a clear warning: if the call failed again… The next victim would be my child, who had just turned six. The excruciating pain made my body tremble uncontrollably, but I didn’t dare fight back. I had to protect my child. Picking up the phone, I dialed Arthur’s number for the eighty-ninth time. Beep… beep… “Hello?” Arthur’s deep, magnetic voice finally came through. The moment I heard his voice, tears immediately streamed down my face. A mix of overwhelming relief and terror tangled in my heart, making me blurt out desperately: “Hubby, Tommy and I have been kidnapped! You need to—” Before I could finish, the man on the other end cut me off with clear disgust: “Enough, Chloe! I don’t care what kind of act you’re pulling this time, but leave Tommy out of it!” “If you have any conscience left, stop using our son as a pawn to get my attention.” With that, he hung up without a second of hesitation. The kidnapper’s face darkened, his gaze shifting ominously toward my son. Ignoring my despair, I immediately called back, terrified that a second’s delay would cost my son his life. The call connected again. I begged through my sobs: “Arthur, I’m not lying! We’ve really been kidnapped! Please, I beg you, save our child!” Silence stretched on the other end for two seconds before Arthur’s voice, so cold it chilled me to the bone, rang out: “Then wait until you’re dead. I’ll come collect your bodies.” The line went dead. Arthur had turned off his phone. At the exact same moment, I received a video message from Mia. In the video, Arthur, dressed in a bespoke suit, held Mia’s son and spoke confidently to the media. “Yes, that’s right. This is Mia’s and my child.” “We were forced apart previously due to some misunderstandings, but now we have decided to get back together.” “From now on, I will be a good father and take excellent care of Mia and Leo.” Mia stood beside him, smiling sweetly. Attached to the video was an electronic invitation. [Chloe, you and Tommy are welcome to attend our wedding on the 5th of next month.] [We’d love for Tommy to be our ring bearer.] It felt like my heart was being shredded into pieces. The pain was so intense I could barely breathe. In my daze, my son suddenly screamed. “Mommy!” Having lost all patience, the kidnapper dragged my son up from the floor, grabbing him by the throat and lifting him into the air. “You little bastard! I didn’t expect you to be completely useless!” My son’s face turned a purplish blue as he desperately slapped the kidnapper’s massive hand with his tiny ones. “M-Mommy…” Rage eclipsed my fear. I screamed and lunged forward, desperate to save my son. Before I could even reach him, another kidnapper pinned me down and punched me brutally several times. “Bitch! You dare fight back?!” As he spoke, he picked up a rusty piece of rebar from the floor and jammed it into my mouth, churning it violently. The rough, jagged ridges tore my mouth apart, churning up bloody foam. My gums and tongue were shredded to a pulp. The agony was so intense I could only let out muffled whimpers. Only after completely venting his rage did the kidnapper throw my son to the ground. He ordered someone to open a live-streaming app on a phone. “Since he doesn’t believe the phone calls, we’ll live-stream the kid being tortured.” “I refuse to believe Arthur Sterling can be that heartless, completely abandoning his own flesh and blood.” 2 The kidnappers’ live stream of the abuse and the news of Arthur’s new relationship skyrocketed to the top of the trending lists simultaneously. In front of the media, Arthur affectionately placed Mia’s son on his shoulders and smiled at the reporters: “Alright, that concludes today’s interview. Mia and I need to go celebrate our child’s birthday.” Mia gave the man a coy, playful look. “Arthur is just like this. He’s always been such a good father.” Meanwhile, on the other side, the kidnappers shoved my son into a burlap sack, kicking and beating him mercilessly like a ragdoll. I was tied tightly to a chair, forced to watch this horror unfold with my own eyes. My son’s cries of pain, initially heart-wrenching screams, slowly faded into the weak whimpers of a dying kitten. The comment section rolled by in a blur: [I can’t watch this! The kid’s screams are too horrible!] [Didn’t they say they’d let the kid go as long as the dad connected to the stream? Where is the dad?!] [Can anyone contact the kid’s father?! Save the child!] The kidnapper dragged my son out of the sack, his eyes filled with sinister cruelty: “You little bastard. It seems your dad really can hold his nerve. He still refuses to show up.” “Fine. Don’t blame me for what happens next.” With that, he picked up the piece of rebar and began to move. My eyes nearly burst from their sockets in sheer terror. Dragging the chair with me, I threw myself to the floor, kowtowing frantically toward them like a madwoman. “I beg you, please don’t hurt my child! I’m not afraid of pain! Do whatever you want to me, just let my child go! I beg you!” My forehead slammed heavily against the concrete floor, quickly dyeing it red. My son opened his eyes, looking at me, and kept shaking his head. “No, Mommy. Tommy doesn’t hurt… Tommy doesn’t hurt at all.” My son’s voice was like an ice pick plunging deep into my heart. But I couldn’t afford to be afraid. He was only six. His life was just beginning. Tears mixed with blood slid down my cheeks as I gave him the same gentle smile I always did. “Tommy, Mommy is an adult. Adults don’t feel pain.” My son looked confused, still shaking his head continuously. The kidnapper, completely out of patience, gripped the rebar and stepped menacingly toward my son. “You little bastard, let’s see you cry now!” In that split second, I lunged forward with all my might, shoving my son out of the way. The rebar plunged down, impaling my body. The agonizing pain caused my body to convulse uncontrollably, but I didn’t want to terrify my child. Even as the kidnapper yanked the rebar out, I fought desperately to keep the smile on my face. I wanted to tell my child not to be afraid. I wanted to tell him how much Mommy loved him. But when I opened my mouth, all I could manage was a smiling whisper: “Tommy, don’t cry. Mommy doesn’t hurt.” In the moments before my death, countless memories flashed through my mind. I thought of our wedding day, how Arthur’s hands trembled so much holding mine that it took him ages to slip the ring on my finger. I thought of the day I found out I was pregnant, how Arthur’s eyes were rimmed with red as he asked me, “Am I really going to be a dad?” I thought of my son’s fifth birthday, the grand, extravagant celebration Arthur threw for him. But soon, those memories were replaced by the countless times Mia framed me and my son after her divorce. By Arthur’s suspicion, his disappointment, and finally, his cold, heartless glare. My vision began to blur. I could hear my son’s voice. He was saying: “Mommy, don’t go to sleep. Tommy will be good. Tommy will listen.” “Mommy, don’t sleep!” I used my last ounce of strength to raise my hand, wanting to stroke my son’s hair. But all I felt was sticky, warm blood. I’m sorry, Mommy couldn’t protect you. I’m sorry, Tommy. My consciousness sank entirely into darkness. My son stretched out his tiny hands, desperately trying to plug the bleeding wounds on my body. But it was all in vain. The comment section couldn’t take it anymore, scrolling frantically: [These monstrous kidnappers! Where are the police?! Hurry up and save them!] [Where is the child’s father?! Why hasn’t he shown up yet?!] [Does anyone know this child?! Please help them, I’m begging you!] … Even the kidnappers began to panic. One nervously turned to his accomplice: “What do we do? She’s dead.” The accomplice narrowed his eyes, his voice chilling: “It’s fine. We still have the little one, don’t we? We can still get the ransom.” He ripped my son away from my body and shoved him in front of the camera. Revealing his small face, covered in dark bruises. “Look closely, everyone! This child’s father is the CEO of the Sterling Group, Arthur Sterling!” The rapidly scrolling comment section paused for a split second. Then it absolutely exploded. [How is that possible? Didn’t CEO Sterling just announce his relationship with that actress?] [Yeah, they have a kid, but isn’t his name Leo?] [Are the kidnappers insane? They’re trying to extort him?] [Exactly! Did they kidnap the wrong person?!] Just as everyone was debating furiously, someone suddenly commented. [I was at the announcement event! I saw CEO Sterling check his phone!] [Just wait a second, everyone! CEO Sterling definitely saw the news! He’ll be here any minute!] As soon as that comment dropped, a bold, enlarged message was pinned to the top of the chat. It immediately caught the kidnappers’ attention. [Connect with me! I am Arthur Sterling!] My son didn’t recognize many words, but he knew the characters for “Arthur Sterling” meant his dad. His eyes instantly lit up. “Daddy…” 3 The connection was established, but it wasn’t Arthur on the other end. The kidnapper’s expression twisted. He violently pinned my son to the floor, raising a knife to sever his left hand. The voice on the other end frantically tried to stop him: [Wait! Don’t do anything rash! I’m CEO Sterling’s personal secretary!] [I just want to tell you that you’ve kidnapped the wrong person. Everyone in the company knows our CEO has always kept his personal life clean and never had any children.] [The only child he acknowledges is the actress’s son, Leo. Please don’t hurt an innocent child!] The kidnapper sneered, pressing the cleaver against my son’s neck, his tone freezing: “I’ll give you ten minutes to get Arthur Sterling on the phone. Otherwise, I’m going to use this kid’s head as a soccer ball!” Helpless, the secretary had no choice but to call Arthur’s number. “Hello? Who are you looking for?” A young, childish voice answered, filled with joy. The next second, an indulgent male voice could be heard. “Leo, the paper airplane is ready. Come here, Daddy Arthur will play with you.” The boy cheered, laughing happily: “Okay! Daddy Arthur, someone is looking for you.” Arthur took the phone, sounding displeased: “What is it? Didn’t I tell you today is Leo’s birthday, and that I’m not to be disturbed no matter what happens?!” The secretary froze for a second before immediately asking: “Mr. Sterling, do you have another son named Tommy? He…” “Enough!” Arthur angrily cut the secretary off: “I don’t know how much Chloe paid you, but I’m warning you, stop using children as a pathetic ploy to get my attention.” “I only have one son right now, and that’s Leo.” “Don’t ever mention anyone else to me again!” With that, the line went dead again. His voice echoed throughout the entire live stream, completely extinguishing the light in my son’s eyes. Perhaps he didn’t understand what “paid you” meant, but he knew one thing for sure: his dad had abandoned him. Muttering that realization, my son closed his eyes, his heart turning to ash. In that moment, he stopped struggling. The live stream was automatically shut down due to suspected violations. Furious and humiliated, the kidnapper raised the cleaver, ready to strike, but his accomplice stopped him. Looking at my son’s innocent, bruised face, he suggested: “Forget it. Since Arthur Sterling refuses to acknowledge him, this kid is useless now.” “Just chop off one of his hands and dump him at Arthur’s villa.” “Since he wants his mom so badly, give him a chance to collect her body.” The kidnapper scoffed, moving the cleaver to my son’s left arm. As the cleaver fell, my son’s agonizing screams echoed through the entire warehouse. Meanwhile, Arthur, who was busy helping a child cut a birthday cake, suddenly felt a sharp jolt in his heart. 4 When he woke up again, my son, now missing a hand, had been dumped by the kidnappers outside Arthur’s sprawling villa. In the courtyard sat a massive, elaborate toy castle. Arthur and Mia were playing games with Leo. The continuous sound of joyful laughter drifted over, reviving my son’s consciousness. He painfully rolled over, staring blankly at the happy scene in the courtyard, his eyes welling with tears. Soon, he remembered what the kidnappers had said. Collect Mommy’s body… Right. I have to collect Mommy’s body. Even though he didn’t fully understand what “collecting a body” meant, his instinct told him it was incredibly important to Mommy. With that thought, he didn’t even have time to process the agonizing pain in his shoulder. Using his only remaining right hand, he dragged himself across the rough ground. Inch by inch, he painfully crawled toward the massive gates of the villa. Sharp stones sliced his palm; gravel dug deep into his raw wounds. Every single movement was sheer torture. This was the same child who used to cry and hide in my arms over a minor scrape. This time, he only whimpered a few times silently before immediately continuing his agonizing crawl. He stared at the increasingly closer gates of the villa, muttering to himself: “It doesn’t hurt… Tommy doesn’t hurt… I have to collect Mommy’s body…” When he finally touched the gate, my son let out a sigh of relief. He raised his head and used his very last ounce of strength to scream. “Daddy!” Hearing the sound, Arthur instinctively turned his head. When he saw the tiny, curled-up figure outside the gate, the man froze, a flicker of heartbreak flashing in his eyes. Just as he was about to step forward, Mia interrupted him. “Arthur, is that Tommy? Why is he here? Didn’t Chloe say they were kidnapped?” Mia’s expression briefly twisted, but her voice remained soft and gentle as water. “But then again, it makes sense. Chloe has always been jealous of how well you treat me and Leo. Trying to ruin Leo’s birthday is exactly her style.” “It’s just pitiful for Tommy. Being used like this at such a young age.” Hearing Mia’s words, Arthur’s heart hardened once more. He looked at my son from a distance, his voice cold and merciless: “What? Your mom’s calls didn’t work, so she sent you here to play the victim?!” “I can’t believe I have a son like you. You’re an embarrassment. From now on, without my permission, you are not allowed to call me ‘Daddy’.” “I’ll count to three. Get up right now, or don’t blame me for what happens next!” My son moved his pale lips, trying to explain, but the pain had long since drained him of all strength. Seeing no reaction, Arthur’s anger flared. He turned, grabbed a heavy model airplane from the yard, and hurled it viciously at my son. “I told you to get up! Stop acting!” The model shattered against my son’s forehead with a loud crack. Blood dripped into his eyes, dyeing his vision red. He wanted to tell his dad that he wasn’t acting. That Tommy was in so much pain. But he had no strength left. Seeing his son still unmoving, Arthur’s fury peaked. He shook off Mia’s hand and marched toward my son: “You’re still refusing to listen, aren’t you?! Believe it or not, I’ll—” Before he could finish, a harsh ringtone pierced the air. “Hello, is this Mr. Arthur Sterling? We received a report that your child was live-streamed by kidnappers this morning, and the mother was killed on the scene.” “We need you to come to the police station immediately to assist with our investigation.” Clatter! The phone slipped from his grasp. Arthur saw the blood covering my son, and his eyes instantly turned blood-red. My son finally found a sliver of strength. He raised his head and, using his only remaining right hand, feebly tugged at Arthur’s pant leg: “Mister… could you please lend me some money… to help me bury my mom?”

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When I was ten, I moved into the Mercer home with my mother after she remarried. My stepbrother, Ethan Mercer, always mocked me as a parasite, once even pushing me down the stairs. He watched me lie in a pool of blood with cold eyes: “Don’t think you can become a Mercer just because you follow your mistress mother. I’ll kick you out eventually.” He’d tear up my homework, draw on my dress with markers, deliberately trying to humiliate me. Even though I was obedient in every way, his malice never ceased. Until his best friend, Leo Donovan, confessed his feelings for me in college. From then on, Ethan, surprisingly, stopped tormenting me. I saw Leo as my salvation, and on my birthday, we became intimate. But the very next day, I overheard a conversation between him and Ethan. Ethan’s voice was steeped in malice: “Did you get her first time on camera?” Leo chuckled mockingly: “Of course, high-definition, uncensored. If it weren’t to get back at you, I wouldn’t touch a home-wrecker like her.” I clapped a hand over my mouth, tears streaming down my face. My supposed salvation was nothing more than Ethan’s tool for revenge. Only, he didn’t know I had submitted my application to study abroad. I was never coming back. … In the private room. Ethan took a drag from his cigarette. “Ruin her reputation. Let’s see how she clings to living in my house after that.” “What if she can’t take it and something happens…” Ethan shot him a glance, scoffing. “So worried about her? Don’t tell me you actually fell for her?” Leo quickly denied it. “No way! I was just messing around with her.” “Chloe is coming back. I don’t have time to waste on Elara.” I stood outside the door, my heart a block of ice. Chloe Harrison was their childhood sweetheart, growing up with them, and Leo’s first love. Ethan always hated me; I knew that. He believed my mother’s appearance caused his mother’s suicide, so he transferred all that hatred onto me. After I started dating Leo, Ethan still didn’t care for me, but he didn’t torment me as he used to. I thought he had finally accepted me. I thought I was finally going to have a brother and eagerly anticipated a normal relationship with him. I never expected this, a revenge far more malicious than before. He and Leo had been inseparable since childhood; how could I have deluded myself into thinking he truly liked me? I had overestimated myself. I swallowed the bitterness in my throat and ran out like a madwoman. It was pouring rain outside. I was completely drenched. The moment I got home, I texted my professor, “Professor, I agree to go abroad with you for the project.” He was my mentor from an international competition, a leader in intelligent technology. I used to strive for excellence, desperately wanting my family’s approval. But no one ever cared. Not my mother, not Ethan. Because the project involved classified information, I couldn’t leave the research institute for three years, so I had refused it. Now, that no longer mattered. Perhaps it was the rain, but I curled up in a ball. Only after being startled awake by a nightmare did I realize I was burning up. Just as I was about to get up for fever medicine, my bedroom door was suddenly pushed open. Before I could speak, my mother, furious, threw a stack of photos at my face: “Elara Vance! How old are you to be sleeping with men? Are you that depraved?” Those photos were taken by Leo while I was asleep. My eyes were vacant, a profound sadness rising in my heart. Overnight, they couldn’t wait to spread the photos. Just two days ago, Leo had solemnly promised me: “I’ll take responsibility for you. We’ll get married after graduation.” He had plied me with a lot of alcohol, and under his persistent coaxing, I agreed. He pulled me into bed again and again, lost in primal desire. I was naive enough to think he truly loved me then. Seeing my silence, my mother relentlessly interrogated me: “Speak up, who took these? If anyone else sees these photos, your uncle and I will never be able to show our faces in society again!” She never cared about me, only herself. But when I said Leo’s name, my mother fell silent. She chastised me: “How could you get involved with the Donovan family’s son? We can’t afford to offend someone like him…” “Besides, you and Leo were dating normally. Even with evidence, we can’t do anything to him. Why didn’t you just say no?” I snapped my head up, my eyes wide with disbelief. She avoided my gaze: “Those photos have been taken down. Given time, no one will remember this.” The Donovans were powerful and wealthy, not someone the Mercers could easily offend. The moment the door closed, I saw Ethan standing at the top of the stairs, smiling at me, his eyes full of provocation. It was as if he had anticipated this outcome all along. The truth no longer mattered. A deep sense of powerlessness washed over me, drowning me in an instant. I crouched in the corner, sobbing uncontrollably. My phone began to buzz with incessant harassment messages. They sent disgusting words that made me nauseous. My hands trembled as I blocked all those numbers. My mother said she had arranged a long leave of absence from school for me, so I didn’t have to go. I didn’t want her to know about going abroad, so I would have to return to school myself to complete the paperwork. She was always too busy for me; she probably wouldn’t even notice if I left. Even though the photos had been deleted, almost everyone around me knew what had happened. Their gazes were filled with scrutiny and mockery, accompanied by whispers. “I never would have thought, she looks so innocent usually, but behind closed doors, she’s so wild. Who knows how many men she’s slept with?” “Who knows, don’t get too close to her. She might have an STD.” A suffocating mix of shame and fear enveloped me. My heart suddenly seized up, and I barely remembered how I left school. Walking disoriented on the street, I was stopped by several men approaching me. The leader pulled out a phone displaying my intimate photos, sizing me up with a sickening gaze. “This picture is you, right? You’ve got a great body.” “Playing so wild in private, how much for a night?” “Come on, have some fun with us. I want to taste what Leo Donovan’s girlfriend is like.” My body stiffened, and I took half a step back: “What do you want?” The men exchanged lewd smiles. Ignoring my struggles, they forcibly dragged me into a dimly lit alley. They grinned menacingly, pressing down on me. “Get off me! Don’t touch me!” But my hands and feet were pinned down; I couldn’t even struggle. I could only watch helplessly as their filthy hands reached for my body. The sound of tearing fabric filled my ears. “Don’t struggle. No one’s coming to save you. If you make us happy, we might go easy on you.” I bit my lip hard, the metallic taste of blood spreading in my mouth. Seizing the moment while they were taking off their clothes, I quickly pulled out the knife I had hidden in my bag. My hand holding the knife trembled: “Don’t come any closer, any of you…” The first time I was bullied, my mother said it was because I dressed provocatively and told me not to wear dresses anymore. But at that time, I was wearing my school uniform. If Ethan hadn’t appeared in time, I wouldn’t have known what to do. Since then, I always carried a fruit knife with me. My fear reached its peak. But they still grinned, unafraid, even trying to snatch the knife from my hand. In the struggle, the blade plunged into my chest. The leader panicked, as if afraid of causing a death, and released me. I collapsed to the ground, my clothes soaked in blood. My vision blurred. But I could hear them making a hushed phone call. “Mr. Mercer, something happened. She stabbed herself.” Ethan’s voice came from the other end of the line. “Is she dead?” Then Leo’s voice: “Ethan, you’re a real bastard. You actually hired people to ambush her.” Ethan sneered: “I just wanted to scare her. Whose fault is it if she wants to die?” “If she’s not dead, dump her at the hospital. Don’t let her know what happened today.” My heart felt like it was being violently squeezed, almost suffocating me with pain. So… he really wanted to destroy me. The words I had accidentally overheard him say flashed through my mind. “Actually, I know my mom wasn’t killed by her. But I just don’t want her to live in peace.” “My dad feels guilty towards them, but I certainly don’t.” Tears fell uncontrollably from the corners of my eyes. I completely lost consciousness. When I woke up again, I was in a hospital bed. Leo was by my side, and when he saw me wake, he immediately leaned in, concerned. “Baby, you’re finally awake. I was so worried.” Seeing my silence, his eyes flickered: “I saw those photos. I’m so sorry. I went out, got drunk, and someone took my phone by mistake and posted them.” “Don’t worry, I’ve had them all deleted. Don’t overthink it, I don’t mind any of it.” I looked at him quietly, my heart a dead wasteland. He was clearly the culprit, yet he was playing the savior. If he hadn’t relentlessly pursued me when I was at my most vulnerable, we never would have been together. But before I could even speak, his phone rang. He responded softly to whatever was said on the other end, then turned and left, phone still in hand, without a backward glance. No sooner had he left than Ethan walked in. Seeing my disheveled state, his eyes showed disgust as he said: “Do you know why he left in such a hurry? Chloe’s back in the country, and she’s not used to the environment, so she can’t sleep. He went to comfort her until she fell asleep. He won’t be protecting you anymore, so don’t delude yourself.” At his words, my body involuntarily trembled. Chloe Harrison was their childhood sweetheart, growing up with them, and Leo’s first love. Because Ethan’s mother once said Chloe resembled her, Ethan always catered to her every whim since they were children. I cherished Ethan as a brother, always trying to be good to him, but it was never enough to outweigh a single word from Chloe. I closed my eyes, a self-deprecating smile playing on my lips. Only now did I truly see that neither Leo nor Ethan ever truly cared for me. Normally, I would have apologized to appease him. But I merely turned my head indifferently: “Understood. It won’t happen again.” Ethan paused for a moment: “Leo isn’t here. Who are you putting on this pathetic act for?” He stormed out. Due to my severe injuries, I was in the hospital for a whole week. My mother, upon learning this, only transferred the hospital fees, then left on a business trip with Uncle Mercer, never visiting me. I was alone even on the day of my discharge. I took advantage of their absence to start packing. There wasn’t much to take, really. The things I once treasured were mostly Ethan’s handouts. Now, they were unnecessary.

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In the third year of my marriage to Arthur Hayes, he died unexpectedly in a car accident. I was inconsolable. It took me five full years to recover, finding solace through the comforting presence of his best friend, Ben Carter. Over time, living in such close proximity, feelings developed between us, and we decided to get married. But at the registrar’s office, the clerk looked at me with a strange expression. “Ma’am, our records indicate you’re already married and your marriage is still active. If you proceed, it could constitute bigamy.” At first, I didn’t believe it. But when I saw “Arthur Hayes” listed in the spouse column, both Ben and I froze. How could my husband, who had passed away five years ago, still be legally married to me? “Excuse me, could there be a system error?” I glanced awkwardly at Ben. “My former husband was indeed Arthur Hayes, but he died five years ago. Legally, a marriage automatically terminates upon the death of a spouse. How could I still be married to him?” The clerk grew impatient, her eyes scrutinizing me. “I’ve checked three times. Your husband, Arthur Hayes, is currently alive, and your marriage is legal and valid. There’s no mistake.” She wasn’t particularly quiet, and hearing her, people nearby shot me disdainful glances. “That woman has some nerve, bringing her lover to get married while her husband is still alive.” “Is she crazy? Does she not know marrying two people is bigamy?” “Can these people stop treating government officials like part of their twisted games?” Seeing the increasingly hostile looks from those around us, Ben quickly pulled me out. Back in the car, I still hadn’t recovered from the shock. Before Ben could offer comfort, I immediately pulled out my phone and called Arthur’s mother. After two rings, her cold voice was piercing. “Why are you calling me? Didn’t I tell you not to contact me again?” “What, you’re marrying Arthur’s best friend now, and you want to invite your former mother-in-law to the wedding?” I ignored her sarcastic tone and immediately asked, “Mom, please tell me, was Arthur truly dead back then? Was he faking his death to deceive me?” On the other end of the line, Arthur’s mother exploded like a sputtering oil pan, roaring at me in anger. “Evelyn Lane, do you have any conscience? Arthur died because of you! If you hadn’t suddenly craved cake in the middle of the night, would he have driven while fatigued and gotten into that accident? You personally identified his body; how dare you ask me such a thing? You have no conscience!” The call was abruptly cut off, but I remained suspicious. After all, though I had rushed to the scene of Arthur’s accident immediately, his body was so mangled from the impact that even his face was unrecognizable. We had identified him by his clothes and car. I took a deep breath, then took Ben to the police station that had handled the accident to check the records. Seeing the 100% DNA match, I froze. The person who died was indeed Arthur Hayes. But a dead man… how could he maintain a five-year marriage with me? Back home, Ben received an urgent call for overtime work. Before leaving, he hugged my shoulders, reassuring me softly. “Don’t be scared.” “I helped with Arthur’s funeral arrangements; he truly was… it couldn’t have been faked.” “Maybe something went wrong when the paperwork was processed. We’ll check again tomorrow; it might be nothing.” “Sweetheart, it’s your birthday today. Be happy.” “When I get back, we’ll celebrate properly.” Looking at Ben’s gentle eyes, my unease lessened considerably, and I nodded at him. After Arthur’s death, I was overcome with grief, on the verge of a complete mental breakdown. If Ben hadn’t canceled so much work to be with me, even using his connections to find me the best psychologist, I doubt I would have recovered so quickly. Although our relationship later wasn’t approved by many, and there were even some unpleasant rumors, I didn’t care. After all, I was living my own life. Sighing, I poured myself a cup of hot water, just about to calm my nerves. The doorbell suddenly rang. I thought it was Ben, having forgotten something. But when I opened the door, it was a smiling delivery man holding a bouquet of flowers. He enthusiastically said, “Is this Ms. Evelyn Lane? These are from your husband.” I took the bouquet, seeing the vibrant red roses, and the gloom in my heart instantly lifted. Just as I was about to snap a photo to send to Ben, the delivery man suddenly smiled and said, “You know, Mr. Hayes is truly thoughtful.” “Our shop had run out of roses, but he specially had the owner air-freight these from a neighboring city.” “Because he said your first meeting was at our shop, he insisted the roses be delivered under our shop’s name. So romantic…” The delivery man continued to chatter, but my face had instantly changed. “Wait.” I gripped the doorframe, my heart feeling like it was trying to leap out of my throat. “My husband, you said. What’s his last name?” The smile on the delivery man’s face froze. He looked at me strangely. “Mr. Hayes, of course. He orders flowers from our shop every year; he’s a regular customer.” Thud. The bouquet in my hand instantly fell to the ground. But I didn’t even bother to pick it up, staring at his face in shock, enunciating each word. “The Mr. Hayes you’re talking about, does he have a red mole between his eyebrows?” Seeing the delivery man nod in surprise, I immediately pulled out my phone, found a photo of Arthur’s ID, and showed it to him. “Is the Mr. Hayes you’re talking about him?” Now the delivery man looked at me even more strangely. “Of course it’s him, Ms. Lane. Are you messing with me? Don’t you know what your own husband looks like?” He scratched his head, gave me a look as if I were an idiot, and walked away. I held onto the doorframe, staring at the blood-red flowers on the ground, and suddenly noticed a greeting card tucked in the bouquet. But in previous years, the bouquets never had one. I picked up the card, and after reading its contents, a chill instantly crawled up my spine. Because the card clearly read: “Dearest wife, happy wedding anniversary. Your loving husband, Arthur Hayes.” I didn’t dare stay home alone. I hailed a taxi and went straight to my office. On the way, I messaged Ben, telling him what had just happened. But the man who always replied instantly didn’t respond. It wasn’t until I entered the office. Just as I was about to call him directly to ask what was going on, Liam, a colleague I was always friendly with, chuckled and came over. “Didn’t you take today off for a romantic day with your husband? Why are you back so soon?” I forced a faint smile, replying evasively, “He’s a bit busy, and I need to catch up on work, so I wanted to come back and organize some project files.” Liam gave me a knowing smile, pointing at a lunch bag on my desk. “Got it, got it. Your husband stood you up today. But he did make you a fancy meal to apologize. You should be gracious and forgive him.” Instantly, the smile on my face froze.

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My name is Dutch. I haul freight for a living. But you won’t see my rig parked at a Walmart loading dock, and I don’t move consumer goods. I specialize in the kind of “shadow contracts” that most drivers wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. Word around the depots is that I’m hard to kill—that I was born under a dark star and have enough grit to stare down whatever crawls out of the roadside ditches. But this last job? The cargo was a truckload of “live fish,” and it damn near buried me. These weren’t your average catch. They were massive, housed in custom-built black timber crates that looked more like caskets than shipping containers. The creepiest part was the sealing protocol. Each lid had to be hammered shut with seven iron spikes, black as sin and thick as a finger. Curiosity is a dangerous thing on the road, but it got the better of me. I pried a corner open for a peek. Just one look. That’s all it took to make sure that for the rest of my life, the mere sight of open water makes my hands shake. Because what was swimming in that box wasn’t a fish. It was… 1 It was an open secret in the underground logistics circuit that the heir to the Vanderwalt fortune had a taste for fish. Rumor had it the young patriarch consumed a dozen massive sturgeons every month—creatures bigger than a grown man. Hauling for the Vanderwalts used to be the golden ticket—high pay, premium routes. But in the last three months alone, seven veteran drivers had vanished or washed out. When Russo, the owner of the logistics company, cornered me, he looked like he’d been drinking swamp water. His face was a sickly shade of green. “Dutch, I’m telling you, this is wrong. It’s unnatural,” Russo hissed, wiping sweat from his forehead. “We watched them load the crates. They looked like fish. They moved like fish.” “The Vanderwalts have money to burn,” I said, scrolling through the video file Russo had sent to my phone. “Why are they importing monster river monsters when they could be eating lobster on a yacht?” On the screen, a driver I vaguely recognized was curled up on the asphalt, sobbing. His skin was pale as chalk. “It’s not a fish!” he screamed at the person recording. “It’s people! I saw legs!” The camera panned to the overturned cargo. Sliding out of the splintered wood was a massive, glistening creature. It had scales, fins, and a tail. “That thing has to be five feet long,” I muttered, zooming in. “Growth hormones? Genetic splicing?” “Rich people and their sick hobbies, who knows?” Russo looked miserable. “Supposedly it’s some rare import. Young Mr. Vanderwalt craves the… freshness.” I lit a cigarette and watched the driver on the screen breakdown, swearing he’d never touch a steering wheel again. I knew then why Russo was begging me. “Dutch, I need you to bail me out. Just two more runs. If you don’t take this, the breach of contract fees will leave me without a pot to piss in.” Russo looked like he was about to get on his knees. The Vanderwalts weren’t just rich; they were powerful in ways that made the local police look the other way. I didn’t want their karma rubbing off on me. “You’ve been pulling too many cursed tickets lately, Russo,” I said, exhaling smoke. “I drive for a paycheck, not a death wish. The Vanderwalt water is too deep. People drown in it.” Russo sighed, the lines on his face deepening. “It’s the holidays, Dutch. The boys need the bonus. I warned them about the risks, but the Vanderwalt money… it made them blind. We would have folded three months ago without it.” Russo and I went way back. When I was at rock bottom, he was the one who fronted me the cash for repairs. “Look,” Russo pressed, seeing me hesitate. “Miller just got diagnosed with kidney failure. Lewis’s wife is expecting their second kid. They’re desperate.” He leaned in, voice dropping. “I’m all in on this. You do this run, I don’t take a cut. Every cent goes to you. If something happens… that’s on me. I won’t hold you to it.” He had me cornered. I couldn’t walk away when he put it like that. “Fine,” I crushed the cigarette under my boot. “Tell them I’m coming. But don’t start loading until I get there.” 2 The pickup point was a secluded hatchery deep in the marshlands, a private facility leased entirely by the Vanderwalts. It was a twenty-hour haul. When I rolled into the yard the next day, the massive crates were already staged. Because it was a “short” run relative to cross-country, the creatures were packed in thick, transparent industrial bags pumped full of oxygen before being crated. The size of them was unsettling. It took three burly dockworkers heaving in unison just to lift one bag into a box. And the boxes… why black timber? Why not fiberglass tanks or insulated coolers? lined up on the gravel, the vertical crates looked exactly like rows of coffins waiting for a mass burial. “Dutch.” Russo had saddled me with a rookie named Mikey. The kid looked like he’d been drafted for war. “Dutch, stay back,” Mikey whispered, scrunching his nose. “The smell… it burns your eyes even through the plastic.” He wasn’t wrong. As I got closer, a stench hit me—pungent, metallic, and rotting. Live fish smell like algae and river mud. They don’t smell like a week-old corpse. My gut tightened, but I walked up to the line. Before the workers could nail the lid shut, I leaned in. The creature inside hovered in the water, suspended. Its mouth gaped open and shut rhythmically. Its belly was a sickly, translucent white, contrasting with scales that shimmered a bruised grey-blue. The meat beneath looked dense. I checked the manifest. They were alive. Then the hammering started. The workers weren’t just sealing the crates; they were driving those seven black spikes in with a violence that made the wood groan. Clang. Clang. At the sound, the fish in the bags went berserk, thrashing against the plastic. That’s when I saw it. A detail that sent a cold spike of adrenaline down my spine. The fish were blinking. Fish don’t have eyelids. They live in the water; they don’t need to moisten their eyes. But I saw it clear as day. A thin, membranous layer of skin slid down over those milky, bulbous eyes and then retracted. Blink. Blink. 3 “Well, look at that. Russo actually found someone stupid enough to drive the hearse. I heard the last guy pissed his pants for three days straight.” The voice was oily and mocking. “Shut your mouth!” Mikey snapped. He was young and full of nervous energy. “We handle our business. Worry about your own.” “Easy there, pup. The grown-ups are talking.” “Slick,” I acknowledged without turning around. “Ah, Dutch. I should have known.” The bald man grinned, his scalp gleaming in the harsh sunlight. “I figured Russo brought in a heavy hitter.” I ignored him and looked past his shoulder. Standing behind Slick was his brother—a man known in the circuit as Twitch. Slick and Twitch were the bottom feeders of our industry. If I was the guy you called for a tough job, they were the guys you called to bury the evidence. 4 We have a term in the trade: “Pathfinding.” When a new route opens up, or an abandoned logging road needs to be run again, you send a veteran driver to test the waters. We call it “clearing the mines.” If the pathfinder makes it through without vanishing or crashing, the fleet follows. It pays double, sometimes triple. But you’re basically being paid to see if the road ghosts are hungry. Slick and Twitch made their living doing this. But they were dirty. They’d run you off the road to beat you to a contract. They’d sabotage your rig at a rest stop. I’d had run-ins with them before. My mentor used to tell me, “Don’t wrestle with pigs; you both get dirty, and the pig likes it.” Twitch, the younger brother, was the one who really turned my stomach. He didn’t talk much. He was short but had disturbingly long arms that hung past his knees, giving him the silhouette of a gibbon. People said I looked scary—I’m six-four, built like a linebacker, with a face that stops bar fights before they start. But if I looked like a bouncer, Twitch looked like a demon that had clawed its way out of a basement. It wasn’t just his looks. Twitch had a history. He’d done time for stalking and assault. He liked to hurt women. 5 “What are you doing here?” I lit a cigarette, stepping between them and Mikey. “Russo has the contract. You trying to poach?” Slick flashed a grin full of yellow teeth. “Relax, Dutch. We aren’t poaching. We’re the overflow. The client said the volume was too high for one truck. We’re splitting the load. Everybody eats.” I glanced back at the loading dock. There were at least thirty of those coffin-crates. Too many for my flatbed. “Fine,” I said. “Stay out of my lane, I’ll stay out of yours.” Honestly, I was relieved. If they wanted to share the curse of the Vanderwalt job, they were welcome to it. 6 We loaded up and rolled out first. Mikey was fuming. Slick had spat on the ground near his boots before we left. “Garbage humans,” Mikey muttered, gripping the dash. “Slick and Twitch have been rotting in this business for twenty years,” I said calmly. “They’re dangerous. Keep your distance. Don’t engage.” Mikey grumbled but quieted down. I wasn’t just lecturing him. There was a darkness around those brothers that went beyond just being jerks. 7 Over a decade ago, back when I was still riding shotgun with my mentor, there was an old-timer who took on a young apprentice. The kid was barely seventeen, pretty in a way that made you look twice. Soft features, bright eyes. We called him Jamie. We were all stuck at a rest stop during a blizzard. Jamie had the bad luck of running into the brothers in the bathroom. We heard the shouting through the walls. Jamie was crying, screaming that Twitch had cornered him in a stall. My mentor and the old-timer kicked the door in. Twitch was on the kid. It turned into a brawl. I was the only one big enough to pin Twitch down. I held his face against the dirty tile floor, and when I looked into his eyes, I didn’t see fear. I saw red, frantic arousal. It wasn’t human. The cops were called, but without physical evidence, nothing stuck. But the bad luck started immediately for the old-timer. Tires blowing out on straight roads. Engines catching fire. Jamie blamed himself. He went to confront the brothers alone. No one knows exactly what happened. We just know that Jamie jumped off a bridge the next night. When they fished him out, he was bloated beyond recognition. The old-timer quit the life, heartbroken. He told my mentor one thing before he vanished: “You can dodge a bullet, but you can’t dodge a curse. Those two aren’t men; they’re devils.” 8 I shook the memory off. We were on the access road now, heading for the highway. It was desolate country. The dirt road was riddled with potholes. The truck bounced violently. Maybe it was the suspension, or maybe it was the load, but I kept hearing sloshing sounds from the back. Mikey was curled up in the passenger seat, looking pale. “Take a nap,” I said. “We’ll switch in a few hours.” “I’m not tired,” Mikey said quickly. Too quickly. He looked like a cornered animal. “I slept great last night.” I wanted to ask what he’d seen on the manifest, but I didn’t want to spook him further. Suddenly, a rhythmic thumping started from the cargo hold. Thump… Thump… It was heavy. Deliberate. Mikey’s face went grey. He stared at his knees, twisting his hands together until his knuckles turned white. “Just the water displacement,” I lied. “Road’s rough.” Mikey didn’t answer. The noise got louder. Faster. It didn’t sound like fish tails slapping water. It sounded like wet, heavy palms slamming against the wood. I pressed down on the accelerator. “We’ll be on the interstate soon. It’ll smooth out.” 9 Once we hit the pavement, the thumping stopped. “See?” I told Mikey. “Physics.” He nodded, but the color didn’t come back to his cheeks. Around noon, we pulled over at a gravel lot where a guy was selling hot meals out of a converted trailer. “Get out, get some air,” I ordered. The cab smelled like a fish market that had lost power three days ago. Mikey stumbled out, breathing in the cold air. He ordered the braised pork over rice and a chicken leg. I chatted with the food vendor while I ate. He mentioned traffic was thin; drivers were avoiding this route. Behind me, Mikey let out a strangled scream and hurled his lunch container across the lot. “What is that?! What the hell is that?!” He fell to his knees, clawing at his mouth, trying to dig the food out of his throat. The vendor looked terrified. “Hey! That meat is fresh! Bought it this morning!” “No! No!” Mikey was gagging, tears streaming down his face. I grabbed a water bottle from the truck and flushed his mouth out. He retched violently, vomiting a pile of half-chewed pork onto the gravel. And there, glistening in the mess, were several scales. They were the size of thumbnails. Grey-blue. 10 The vendor poked at the mess with a stick. “I didn’t cook any fish today. Where did those come from?” He tried to refund us, but I waved him off. It wasn’t his fault. Just then, the screech of air brakes announced the arrival of the brothers. Slick hopped out of their rig. “Look at that. Kid’s got a weak stomach. Typical.” Twitch stood by the fender. His face was flushed a deep, unnatural red, like he’d downed a bottle of vodka. He was vibrating with energy. I recognized that look. It was the look he got when things were about to go wrong. He was hunting. Mikey was still dry heaving. I hauled him back into the cab. As I pulled away, I checked the mirror. Twitch was staring at our truck, a twisted, predatory smile stretching his face. 11 I drove the afternoon shift. Mikey was a wreck, shaking too hard to hold a cigarette. I kept the windows down, letting the freezing wind blast through the cab to scrub out the smell. We stopped for the night at a motel in a small, forgotten town at the base of the mountains. The next leg was a treacherous climb, icy and narrow. I wasn’t risking it in the dark. The motel was a dive—peeling paint, neon sign buzzing—but it had a big lot for rigs. The lobby doubled as a diner. Mikey picked at two hard-boiled eggs and nursed a beer, trying to drown the memory of lunch. The bell above the door chimed. Ding, ding… It was a sharp, piercing sound. Mikey didn’t even flinch, seemingly deaf to it. I looked up. A girl walked in. She couldn’t have been more than twenty. She wore a faded white down coat and tapped the floor with a white cane. 12 What was a blind girl doing alone in a place like this? The diner was full of truckers—rough men, smoke, grease. The owner, a portly woman, hurried over. “Honey, are you lost?” The girl turned her head slightly, guided by the sound. “I need a room. A single.” Her voice was soft but clear. “We… we aren’t really set up for… look, there’s a chain hotel two streets over. Much safer,” the owner stammered. She didn’t want the liability. “I want to stay here,” the girl insisted. “It’s what I can afford.” Before the owner could argue, the door opened again. A gust of snow blew in. Slick and Twitch. Twitch looked even worse than before. His eyes were bloodshot, bulging. As soon as he saw the girl, he froze. His gaze crawled over her, disgusting and palpable. The girl sensed the new presence. She shrank back, fumbling to hand her ID and cash to the owner. The owner, sensing the tension, quickly ushered the girl toward the stairs. Twitch watched them go, his Adam’s apple bobbing. 13 “Mikey.” I shoved five hundred bucks into the kid’s hand. “Go to the owner. Tell her to move that girl to the hotel down the street. I’m paying.” Mikey blinked, confused, but saw the look on my face and scrambled off. Twitch whipped his head around, staring at me with those dead, frantic eyes. I slammed my hand on the table. “What are you looking at? Sit down. We’re drinking.” Slick glanced between me and his brother. He knew I wouldn’t let them leave that room until the girl was gone. Mikey came back, nodding to indicate the girl was safe. I kept the brothers at the table until midnight. Slick talked shop, trying to fish for details about the payout. Twitch just drank. He poured cheap whiskey down his throat until the veins in his neck looked like they were going to burst. Finally, Slick dragged his brother to their room next door. I helped Mikey upstairs. The kid passed out the second he hit the mattress. 14 That night, the nightmare found me. I wasn’t in the motel. I was back in the truck, parked in pitch blackness. A figure, dripping wet, approached the window. The voice sounded like sandpaper on bone. “Driver… when do we leave?” I tried to open my eyes, but they were glued shut. “Driver… it’s so stuffy in the bag. I can’t breathe.” Panic set in. I could smell the cargo. The brine. The rot. Then, something cold and slimy wrapped around my throat. Wet hair. But it wasn’t just hair—it was matted with scales and chunks of raw meat. It tightened. Ding, ding… The bell. Was the girl back? My heart hammered against my ribs. She shouldn’t be here. Twitch was a powder keg. I thrashed in the dream, finally tearing the wet hair from my neck. I woke up gasping. 15 The room was silent. Gray morning light filtered through the dirty curtains. No bell. Just a nightmare. Mikey was curled in a fetal ball, shivering. I shook him awake. “Wash up. We move in ten.” We walked out into the hallway just as Slick opened his door. “Morning, Dutch.” I grunted, intending to walk past. But my eyes caught the inside of their room. Two beds. One was a mess of tangled sheets. The other was pristine. Unslept in. Where was Twitch? Slick saw me looking. He smirked, a lewd, knowing expression. “He found his own way back. Guess the little lady has a thing for bad boys. Don’t be a prude, Dutch.” 16 “What did you say?” I grabbed Slick by the collar and slammed him against the wall. “Hey! Easy! They’re consenting adults!” Slick yelped. “I swear to god…” Mikey grabbed my arm, holding me back. The commotion brought the motel owner running up the stairs. “What is going on?!” I spun on her. “The blind girl. Did she come back? Which room?” She looked terrified. “The… the utility room at the end of the hall. She said she forgot something…” I threw Slick aside and sprinted down the hallway. I knew what Twitch was capable of. I knew about Jamie. Slick chased after me. “He hasn’t had a woman in years! Don’t ruin this for him—” Before he could finish, a scream tore through the building.

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On my twenty-third birthday, I was preparing to confess my feelings to Julian. But he beat me to it, falling in love at first sight with my roommate. I watched them break up and get back together, endlessly entangled. Finally, I gave up completely and started dating someone else. The day I announced my new relationship on Facebook, everyone offered genuine congratulations. Julian never showed up. It wasn’t until the next day that someone brought it up in front of him. “Did you see that post? What do you think of Summer’s new boyfriend?” The man leaned back diagonally on the sofa, glancing at me upon hearing the question. After a long time, he finally spoke slowly, “Oh, he’s average.” 1 As soon as Julian finished speaking, the room fell silent for a moment. Everyone’s eyes turned to me. Some watched from the sidelines, while others looked worried and anxious. In this day and age, everyone loves posting short videos and status updates. Two people standing shoulder to shoulder, smiling and clearly in love—who wouldn’t want to hear others call them a perfect match? But Julian had to be the one to bluntly evaluate him as, “Oh, average.” He was a guy who, despite having a bit of a temper, was usually very polite in his dealings with others. Acting like this now… it was as if he was deliberately trying to embarrass me. Suppressing the anger in my heart, I asked him. “What’s wrong with my boyfriend?” In fact, Evan is very handsome. Even my picky mother couldn’t help but compliment him after meeting him. “Compared to your friend named Julian, he doesn’t fall short at all.” I stared at Julian, my expression showing my displeasure. But he suddenly let out a tired smile. Then he glanced at me, “Just a casual remark, don’t take it to heart.” “Bring him around sometime when you’re free.” With that, he stood up without hesitation and left. He didn’t spare me another half a glance. So, someone tried to comfort me, saying, “Tsk, almost forgot. He just went through a breakup with his girlfriend, so he’s probably feeling really frustrated right now.” “It’s fine. Aren’t they always like this? They’ll be back together in a few days.” Saying this, the person glanced at me. “Don’t you think so, Summer?” I spaced out for a moment. “Yeah, that’s right.” They had been entangled for so long; how could they separate so easily? Over the past few years, I had hoped time and time again, only to be disappointed time and time again. I should have understood this long ago, shouldn’t I? 2 Coming out of the private room, I saw Julian smoking not far away. He rarely did that. Because Mia didn’t like it. He was acting really out of character tonight. I was still angry about what happened earlier, so I didn’t speak to him and walked straight outside. But I hadn’t even taken two steps before someone grabbed my wrist. I turned around and met a pair of cold, indifferent eyes. Even when I first met him, I heard people say that Julian, the famous young master of the Vance family, had been raised as the heir since childhood. He was precious and privileged. The people who wanted to date him could form a line around the block, but he never gave anyone a second look. Later, when Julian and I became close, everyone praised my good luck. For all these years, I was the only female friend by his side. Inevitably, some people made snide remarks: “Who knows if one day she’ll go from friend to girlfriend, flying up to a higher branch and becoming Mrs. Vance?” It wasn’t that I hadn’t dreamed that beautiful dream. But later, when Mia appeared, I realized she was his true destiny. He had remained single for over twenty years, all to wait for her. As for me, I was just lucky enough to be acquainted with him. Under the dim light, he stared at me, his expression somewhat careless. He said. “How did you meet?” I didn’t react immediately, freezing for a moment. He patiently repeated himself. “I mean, how did you meet that guy?” 3 It was a cold, snowy day. Julian instinctively turned his body to block the cold wind blowing from afar for me. I looked at his features and remained silent for a moment. “We met while traveling. I thought he was pretty nice, so we got together.” There is a phrase called “perfect timing.” That probably describes Evan and me. Hearing this, Julian lifted his eyelids. “Traveling? When did you go out to play? How come I didn’t know?” I smiled, “Just last month.” He probably no longer remembered that one night last month, he called me late, saying he and Mia had a fight and she had angrily gone abroad. He said: “You two are the closest, go over and talk to her. In a foreign country, if she insists on staying there, she’ll suffer grievances.” I packed my bags overnight and traveled thousands of miles with him, but shortly after landing, he received news that Mia had already gone somewhere else. Round trip, it was over a dozen hours of travel. I happened to get a high fever and couldn’t accompany him on his frantic journey anymore. He had no choice but to leave me behind and go look for Mia. After he left, I stood by the riverbank, looking at the bright moon on the other side, and suddenly felt exhausted. To stay by his side, I had given up a stable job in my hometown. Even when my father was hospitalized last year, I couldn’t be by his side. Time is ruthless. What had I gained, and what had I lost? No one knew. My thoughts returning, I looked at Julian in front of me and spoke very calmly. “Are you done asking? I have to go.” He froze. After a long time, he finally spoke again. “Lend me your phone for a second. Mia blocked me.” Actually, I really wanted to ask—with so many people in the private room, did you have to ask to borrow mine? But I didn’t say it in the end. After all, all those feelings of joy, sadness, and despair, from beginning to end, were known only to me. In his eyes, I was a perfect friend, completely unrelated to romance. I took out my phone and handed it to him. He took it and walked to the side to make a call. They talked for quite a while. When Julian came back, his expression was no longer as tense as before. His eyes held a smile as he handed the phone back to me. Just then, a message suddenly popped up on the screen. Evan: [I’m returning to Seattle at the end of the month.] In an instant, the smile on Julian’s face vanished. He frowned, his voice flat: “Your relationship seems pretty good.” 4 Since I had decided to let go, I began intentionally distancing myself from Julian’s circle. I muted these people’s posts on social media. And I stopped going to the places they frequented. One day, Julian messaged me. [Your birthday is in a couple of days. Want to come check out the venue?] He was very generous. Every time a friend had a birthday, he would put his all into helping organize it. I wasn’t the first, nor was I the only one. But to this day, I still remember that on my twenty-third birthday, Julian pointed to Mia not far away and asked me, “Is that your friend? Give me her WeChat.” A talented man and a beautiful woman, a perfect match. I guess they should thank me, the matchmaker. Later, I heard someone ask Julian, why did it have to be Mia? At the time, he was texting Mia. Hearing the question, he smiled, raised his eyebrows, and said, “She was wearing a red dress that day. I’ve rarely seen anyone wear that color so well.” But who would remember that I also wore a red dress that day? For many years after that, I never touched clothes in that color again. Thinking of this, I typed. [I’ve been busy lately. No need.] He took a long time to reply. [Busy dating?] I replied, [Yeah.] After sending that message, he didn’t reply again. However, his best friend, Liam, sent me a voice message, saying playfully, “Wow, you’re amazing, Summer. Julian put a lot of effort into planning your birthday party this time. We all stayed up late for several nights helping out, and you just decide not to come. He’s furious, hahaha.” I gave a brief, casual reply. Just then, a red notification popped up on my email. I clicked it. It was an employment offer. I thought about it, feeling a bit happy, and messaged Evan. [Once I finish handing over my current work, I can process my resignation. We can go back to Portland together then.] He replied, [Okay.] This guy looked serious and spoke meticulously. But looking at this one word. I inexplicably smiled. 5 Neither Evan nor I were very talkative people; we only chatted when there was something to say. But I didn’t expect him to return early. He came back specifically to celebrate my birthday with me. In an elegantly decorated western restaurant, he handed me a gift bag. “Sorry, I only found out it was your birthday today after seeing your mom’s post.” After we decided to be together, we quickly met each other’s parents, planning to get engaged once we returned to Portland. Lately, my mom kept telling me: “Evan is a good guy. He often sends me things. You should treat him well.” Halfway through the meal, Evan went out to take a call. After he left, I looked down at my phone. I happened to see a post from Liam. [Someone save me!? Julian is acting crazy today, insisting on a drinking contest with me. I’m about to drink myself to death here, and his face isn’t even red. I can’t survive this.] Liam had a lively personality and often posted things like this, so I wasn’t too surprised when I read those words. I was just a little surprised. That day outside the private room, Julian borrowed my phone to call Mia, and they had clearly reconciled. Acting like this now, did they fall out again? You couldn’t blame me for thinking this way. Julian’s life had been smooth sailing; aside from love, he would absolutely never suffer any hardship elsewhere. Just as I thought this, a phone call came in. It was Liam. We had a pretty good relationship, and I was afraid something had really happened to him, so I answered it immediately. His voice was drunk. “Hey, I’m telling you, Julian is simply not human…” Halfway through, his voice got quieter and quieter until it disappeared. I called his name twice. There was no response. Just as I was about to hang up, someone finally spoke. It was Julian. His voice was cold, a little hoarse. “This guy couldn’t hold his liquor and passed out on the table. It’s nothing serious.” I said: “Oh, as long as everything’s fine.” He was silent for a moment, then asked, “What about you? How was your day? Are you happy?” I was just about to answer when Evan returned from outside and asked who I was talking to. I said. “A friend.” When I looked down again, the call had already been hung up. 6 After hanging up, I felt a little unsettled. Evan pushed the cut steak in front of me, his movements natural and elegant. “What’s wrong? Is there an emergency at work?” He was always like this, emotionally stable and very measured. He would never be like Julian, moody over trivial things, needing to be coaxed and pampered. Looking at Evan’s calm eyes, the annoyance in my heart suddenly dissipated for the most part. “It’s nothing. Just an ordinary friend who drank too much and is acting crazy.” Evan smiled and didn’t ask any more questions, just poured me a glass of warm water. “Drink some water, soothe your throat.” The meal was very pleasant. As we were finishing, Evan pulled a velvet box from his pocket. The pendant was a very translucent jade stone in the shape of a peace buckle. Just looking at it made you feel at ease. He put it on me, his warm fingertips brushing against my neck. “Summer, happy birthday. I wish you peace and safety year after year.” No grand vows, no earth-shattering fanfare. Just this simple, unadorned “peace and safety year after year.” I touched the peace buckle, my eyes feeling a little hot. These past few years by Julian’s side, I had seen too much extravagance and received too many expensive but cold luxury items. But I had never experienced this kind of grounded warmth. It was 10 PM by the time I got home. Evan walked me to the lobby of my apartment building, politely kissed my forehead, and left. I had just turned around to go upstairs when a harsh screeching of brakes came from behind. Followed by rapid footsteps. My wrist was grabbed tightly, with a force that felt like it would crush my bones. I turned my head in pain and met Julian’s bloodshot eyes. He smelled of alcohol and looked a bit disheveled, completely devoid of his usual aloof, aristocratic demeanor. “That guy… is your boyfriend?” His voice was terribly hoarse, as if filled with gravel. I frowned and tried to pull my hand away. “Julian, you’re hurting me. Let go.” Not only did he not let go, but his grip tightened, his eyes locked dead on the necklace around my neck. The peace buckle shone with a gentle glow under the streetlight, but it seemed to sting his eyes. “What’s so great about this broken rock? How much is it worth?” He sneered, his tone full of disdain. “If you like jewelry, I have a bunch. Cartier, Bvlgari, pick whatever you want. How can you wear this cheap junk out in public?” Listening to his cruel words, the anger in my heart “whooshed” right up. How come I never realized he had such a mean mouth before? “Julian, this is a token of my boyfriend’s affection. In my eyes, it’s priceless.” I looked at him coldly. “Also, it’s late. If you’ve had too much to drink, go home and sleep. Don’t come here acting crazy.” Julian froze for a moment, as if he didn’t expect me to speak to him like that. The old Summer was always soft-spoken and completely obedient to him. If he even frowned, I’d be anxious for a long time. But now, the way I looked at him was like looking at an unreasonable stranger. This realization made him even more frustrated. He leaned in abruptly, pinning me against the wall of the lobby. The strong smell of alcohol mixed with tobacco rushed over me, making me instinctively hold my breath. “Summer, are you getting back at me?” He stared into my eyes, asking through gritted teeth. “Because I said he was ‘average’ before? So you deliberately brought him to make me mad? That guy looks like a bookworm. Aside from being decent-looking, how does he compare to me?” I laughed out of extreme anger. “Julian, do you think the whole world revolves around you?” “I’m dating for my own happiness, not to make you mad, and certainly not to get back at you. You aren’t that important to me.” As soon as this sentence came out, the air seemed to solidify. Julian’s pupils contracted sharply, a flash of astonishment on his face, followed by a deeper gloom. “Not that important?” He repeated those words as if he had heard the biggest joke in the world. “Summer, you ran after me for seven years. And now you’re telling me I’m not important?” He let go of my wrist, but suddenly reached out to yank the necklace from my neck. “Since it’s not important, take off this piece of junk! It’s an eyesore!” “Are you crazy?!” I panicked and desperately tried to protect the necklace. During the struggle, the red string snapped. The peace buckle fell to the ground with a “smack,” rolled twice, and split in half. The world instantly went quiet. I looked at the shattered jade on the ground, my heart feeling like it had been viciously stabbed by something. That was the first birthday gift Evan gave me. It represented his blessing of “peace and safety year after year.” And just like that, Julian destroyed it. I slowly crouched down and picked up the two pieces of broken jade, the sharp edges biting into my palm. When I looked up again, I stared at Julian, the last bit of warmth vanishing from my eyes. “Julian, you are truly disgusting.” After saying that, I didn’t spare him another glance, turned around, and went upstairs. Behind me, I heard Julian’s somewhat panicked shout: “Summer…” I slammed the lobby door shut heavily, isolating his voice in the night. 7 The next day, I took time off work to go get the peace buckle fixed. The master craftsman said it could be repaired using the gold-inlaid jade technique, but there would always be a crack. Just like my relationship with Julian—it was completely shattered, and no matter how it was repaired, it could never go back to the way it was. When I returned to the office, I happened to run into Liam joking around with the receptionist. Seeing me, his eyes lit up, and he came over. “Hey, Summer, you’re looking good today. Did Julian go see you last night?” I subtly avoided his touch and said lightly, “Yeah, came and threw a drunken fit.” The smile on Liam’s face froze for a second, then he laughed awkwardly. “Hey, you know how Julian is, right? Tough talker, soft heart. He drank too much last night and kept muttering your name. He actually still cares about you…” “Liam.” I cut him off, my tone calm. “I’ve already submitted my resignation. I’m leaving next month.” Liam’s eyes widened as if he had seen a ghost. “Holy shit? Resigning? Where are you going? Does Julian know?” “Going back to my hometown, or to another city. Haven’t decided yet. As for whether Julian knows, it has nothing to do with me.” I didn’t want to waste any more breath on him, turned around, and went into the office. Not long after, Julian called. I immediately hung up and blocked the number. I also deleted his WeChat. These actions flowed smoothly. After doing them, I felt completely refreshed. Since I had decided to cut ties, I would cut them cleanly. In the afternoon, while I was handing over my work, the receptionist said someone was looking for me. I thought it was Evan and ran out smiling, but it turned out to be Mia. She wore a high-end designer suit, carrying a limited-edition bag, still exuding her usual aloof goddess vibe. Seeing me, she took off her sunglasses, looked me up and down, and a mocking smile touched her lips. “I heard you’re resigning? What, did Julian break your heart so much you’re planning to run away?” I looked at her, my heart completely undisturbed. I used to think she was my romantic rival, an insurmountable mountain between Julian and me. Now it seemed she was just a pitiful person spoiled rotten by Julian. “Ms. Mia, if you don’t have any actual business, I’m going to get back to work.” I didn’t want to engage with her and turned to leave. “Stop right there!” Mia stomped her high heels and blocked my path, her face looking a bit ugly. “Summer, stop pretending. Do you think playing hard to get works on Julian? He did go to see you last night, but when he came back, he told me you were just a plaything he could summon and dismiss at will.” She raised her chin, as if asserting dominance. “He and I are destined to get married. With your status, you’re not even worthy to carry his shoes.” Watching her try to act tough while feeling insecure, I suddenly found it a bit funny. “Mia, are you in such a rush to assert dominance because Julian called my name last night?” Mia’s face turned pale; I had clearly hit the nail on the head. I smiled and continued, “Don’t worry, I have no interest in your Julian. I’ve already thrown that man away. If you like picking up trash, hold on tight, and don’t let him out to disgust people anymore.” “Who are you calling trash?!” Mia raised her hand in a flustered rage, trying to slap me. But her wrist was intercepted mid-air. By a slender, powerful hand. Evan had arrived at some point. He was wearing simple casual clothes, but his presence was overwhelming. He threw Mia’s hand aside, protected me behind him, and his eyes were icy. “Miss, please show some self-respect.” Mia rubbed her wrist and glared at Evan. “And who are you? This is between her and me. It’s none of your business to interfere!” “I am Summer’s fiancé.” Evan’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was firm and resounding. “Her business is my business. If you dare touch her again, I wouldn’t mind having security escort you out.” Mia probably hadn’t seen such a tough man before, and she was stunned for a moment. At this moment, there was a commotion at the lobby entrance. Julian strode in, followed by a breathless Liam. Seeing this scene, Julian’s face instantly darkened. He quickly walked over to Mia’s side but locked his gaze dead on me. “Summer, what is the meaning of this? Blocking my calls, deleting my WeChat, and now ganging up with an outsider to bully Mia?” I peeked out from behind Evan, looking at this man who couldn’t tell right from wrong, feeling only ridiculous. “Julian, which eye did you use to see me bully her? She was the one who came to my company to cause a scene and even tried to hit me. What, are only the privileged allowed to act out, while the rest of us just have to take it?” Julian frowned and looked at Mia. Mia immediately put on a wronged expression and clung to Julian’s arm. “Julian, I just heard Summer was leaving and wanted to come say goodbye. Who knew she would say such awful things and even call you… call you trash.” Julian’s face instantly turned as black as the bottom of a pot. He stared at me, gritting his teeth: “You called me trash?” I fearlessly met his gaze. “Is it not true? Eating from the bowl while eyeing the pot, clearly having a girlfriend but still coming to harass your ‘ex-friend’. Julian, if you aren’t trash, what are you?” “Good, very good.” Julian laughed out of extreme anger, saying the word “good” twice. He pointed at Evan, his eyes sinister. “You’re falling out with me over a man like this? Summer, don’t you regret this!” I clung tightly to Evan’s arm, smiling openly. “The biggest regret of my life was meeting you. As for Evan, he is a thousand, ten thousand times better than you.” It was as if Julian had been viciously slapped across the face; his complexion turned a mix of pale and green. He stared fixedly at my hand holding Evan’s arm, emotions I couldn’t understand churning in his eyes. Like anger, but also like… panic.

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