Category: English

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Our texts read like a chatbot conversation: [Gotta make an arrest today. Won’t be home. Lock the doors.] [Suspect got away. Still pursuing. Won’t be home. Lock the doors.] [Making an arrest. Lock the doors.] 1 Finally, unable to bear the loneliness any longer, I hit up my best friend to go out and have some fun. I took the initiative to text him: [Are you making arrests today too?] Server’s #1 Assassin: [Yes] Awesome. If he’s catching bad guys, he can’t catch me cheating. The next second, while I was happily watching a male dancer grind his hips, the door burst open: “Vice squad! Hands where I can see them!” My vision went black. Turns out, the person he was arresting today was me… 1 Day 32 of being newlyweds. My best friend sent me ten thirst-trap videos. I stared at the rows of abs on my phone, swallowing hard. “How do these bodies compare to your Officer Cole?” I stared at the ceiling in a standoff: “I’ve never seen him without his clothes on…” She was shocked: “No way? If you don’t jump his bones soon, his gun’s gonna rust.” I wanted to! After all, I was pretty thirsty for him too. Cole Anderson and I met through a blind date setup. The first time I saw him, I shamefully fell hard. A broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted, long-legged physique wrapped in a police uniform, plus a face that screamed “alpha male.” He was handsome, wild, and basically walking testosterone. “Miss Miller, I hope you don’t mind that police work is demanding?” “Not at all, not at all!” I swallowed hard and shook my head frantically back then. So what if he’s busy? I love a man with ambition. It was only later I realized that when he got busy, I’d turn into a stone statue waiting for her husband’s return. On our first day as newlyweds, before our lips could even touch, he got a call and shot out of bed: “Emergency. Gotta go make an arrest.” I waited up for him all night, going crazy. The next day, my period arrived before he did. Cole was either making an arrest or on his way to make one every day. Usually, by the time I went to sleep, he’d get back. By the time I woke up, he was gone. I get grumpy when I wake up, so to avoid disturbing me, he’d sleep in the guest room when he got home. One month into our marriage, we were like long-distance internet friends who barely knew each other. But the speed at which he replied to messages was like waiting for reincarnation. Our chats were like talking to a bot. (Monday) Barely Alive: [Coming home today?] Server’s #1 Assassin: [Gotta make an arrest tonight. Won’t be home. Lock the doors.] Barely Alive: [Amazon Locker: Pickup code 5210] Server’s #1 Assassin: [I’ll grab it on my way back.] (Tuesday) Barely Alive: [Did you catch the guy?] Server’s #1 Assassin: [He ran. Still pursuing. Won’t be home. Lock the doors.] Barely Alive: [Amazon Locker: Pickup code 5456] Server’s #1 Assassin: [1] (Got it) (Wednesday) Barely Alive: [Coming back?] Server’s #1 Assassin: [Making an arrest. Lock the doors.] Barely Alive: [Amazon Locker: Pickup code 5678] Server’s #1 Assassin: [1] Server’s #1 Assassin transferred $10,000 to you. Memo: Paycheck (Thursday) Barely Alive: [?] Server’s #1 Assassin: [1] Barely Alive: [Amazon Locker: Pickup code 6785] Server’s #1 Assassin: [1] I really… Even Batman couldn’t make this many arrests. I felt like I had married a heartless package-retrieval machine. 2 I pressed the two pimples popping up on my chin, feeling hot and bothered all over. My best friend forwarded me an article: [How Terrifying is a Woman Who Hasn’t Had Sex in a Long Time?] Reminding me: [If you don’t break your fast soon, this fresh flower is gonna turn into dried weeds.] Attached was a video showcasing a talent: opening a bottle cap with abs. “I called over those streamers you like the most.” “Get over here now! My treat!” With the words “my treat,” what little wifely virtue I had instantly vanished. “Fuck it!” I ripped off my pajamas and threw them on the bed. Time for the miniskirt and crop top: “Mama’s gonna be an outlaw tonight!” Just in case, I sent Cole a message: [Are you making arrests today too?] This time, he replied pretty fast: [Yes] Awesome. If he’s catching bad guys, he won’t have time to catch me cheating. [Okay, I’m going to sleep then~] Today was my best friend’s birthday party. She was gorgeous and well-connected, and she had invited a bunch of male models and influencers. As soon as I walked in, my eyes were met with a sea of half-dressed pretty boys. “Hi, you’re so pretty.” “Do you have a boyfriend?” “I can dance for you.” “Wanna touch my abs?” When the Nth boy with abs came over to hit on me, I finally understood the joy of being a hedonistic king. “Wanna feel?” A silver-haired bad boy lifted the hem of his shirt, his eight-pack glistening under the lights. “Just worked on my V-lines…” I swallowed hard and shrank back, but my fingers moved forward uncontrollably. Damn it, us strong independent women need to enjoy days like this after a tiring day. The abs peeking through the unbuttoned shirt made me dizzy: “Why are your hands shaking a bit?” No kidding. The hands my husband uses to arrest people are currently gripping a gun. And here I am, touching another man’s waist. Just as my heart was blooming with joy from being sweet-talked… The VIP room door was kicked open with a bang. “Vice squad! Hands on your heads, get down!” 3 That voice was so familiar it made my scalp tingle. I looked up and saw Cole standing in the doorway, his police uniform buttoned to the top, his belt cinching his lean waist. When his gaze swept over my little crop top and miniskirt, his Adam’s apple bobbed hard. Our eyes met, and my hand subconsciously shrank behind my back: “Honey, listen… let me explain…” “They ordered them all, I didn’t order any…” “I didn’t even dare touch them, I didn’t even dare look…” The rookie cop beside him couldn’t help but laugh out loud: “Captain Anderson, here’s the surveillance footage…” The rookie handed over a tablet. I watched helplessly at the stupid look on my face on the screen, frantically swallowing as I stared at those abs. I felt so hopeless I wanted to reincarnate on the spot. What was even more suffocating was… Cole actually pressed pause. He zoomed in on my paw that was about to touch the male model’s abs. “Miss Miller.” He tapped his knuckles on the screen, his wedding ring making a crisp clinking sound. “Care to explain this action?” My legs went weak, and I almost slid to my knees: “Honey, listen to me! This is art appreciation…” Cole gritted his teeth: “Take her away.” His long legs, wrapped in police trousers, strode with murderous intent. I remembered during our blind date, staring at his police uniform, my mind filled with dirty thoughts about handcuffs and forced love. Now karma had come; he really did use handcuffs to force me. Congratulations to me on getting a pair of silver bracelets. Boohoo. 4 Inside the interrogation room. Cole stared at my little crop top. With a dark face, he took off his police jacket and wrapped it around me. I shrank into the chair, silently pretending to be a quail. “Name?” “Your wife…” The pen slammed onto the table with a “thud.” Cole loosened his collar and raised his voice: “Take this seriously.” I stared at his bobbing Adam’s apple and whispered: “Maya Miller.” He kept a straight face: “Motive?” “Left alone in an empty room for thirty-two days.” I started counting on my fingers to complain. “Fell in love with a man who never comes home…” The rookie cop taking notes in the corner let out a snort of laughter. Cole shot him a glare like a throwing knife. “Detail everything. What exactly did you do during the entire process?” “I didn’t do anything, just drank a glass of juice…” He tapped the table, warning me: “Providing false statements carries legal consequences.” “Well, maybe there was some dancing…” “How were they dancing? What happened?” “Just, maybe, I accidentally brushed against his abs…” “How many times did you brush against them?” “What does this have to do with the case?” I couldn’t help but ask. His face tightened, his tone serious: “Every single detail must be accounted for.” I braced myself and spoke: “Twice? Three times?” Cole’s face instantly turned a shade of green, his voice terrifyingly dark: “How many times exactly?” I looked down guiltily: “I was wrong, honey…” A few cops were peeking through the window at the door, eating up the drama: “Ahem, Captain Anderson, per regulations, we need to clarify the contact area with the suspect—were the abs specifically the upper, middle, or lower abs?” Cole’s gaze shot poison darts: “Are you guys really that free?” “Well, you taught us this!” A few of them started making a ruckus while slipping away. “Last week during the vice raid, you even said evidence collection must be specific to…” “That was for prostitution!” “But sister-in-law just said she touched the V-lines.” The rookie taking notes tried hard to suppress his laughter, pulling out his phone. “Captain Anderson, look, the criminal investigation group chat is discussing how you broke the record for response time tonight. Everyone is asking if you used a 100-meter sprint dash…” Cole grabbed the guy by the back of the neck and tossed him out the door. The rookie peeked his head through the crack in the door: “Um, if sister-in-law needs some art appreciation of abs, our squad…” “Don’t want to get off work?” The rookie chuckled apologetically: “Yes, yes, yes! You two continue with the law enforcement.” “Oh right, Captain Anderson, remember to sign the family member section so you can take sister-in-law home.” Cole signed his name with a dark expression. Then he raised his hand and tightened the police jacket draped over my shoulders. 5 On the way back, he drove in silence. I was both well-behaved and cowardly: “Cole, are you… angry?” He was expressionless: “No.” Saying one thing and meaning another. I stole a quick glance. The man’s jawline was tight, his narrow, deep-set eyes lowered, his thin lips slightly pursed. His long fingers gripped the steering wheel, the cuffs of his blue uniform shirt rolled up to his elbows, revealing forearms with prominent veins. Simply amazing, even when he’s angry he’s so handsome. I was just thinking about how to coax him. My phone suddenly vibrated. I answered, and my best friend’s loud voice blasted from the receiver: “Maya Miller, your husband arrested all eight models I called over! You got to feel them up, but I’m still burning up over here!” “But I gotta say, his squad is full of long legs. Seeing them in those police uniforms got me all hot and bothered. Officer Cole’s waist is definitely better than any male model’s!” What kind of wild talk is this… I panicked and hurriedly hung up. But I accidentally hit the speakerphone button: “I heard Officer Cole went home with you. Doesn’t that mean you guys are gonna go at it hard tonight?” “Having gone without for so many days, his pants must be on fire, right?” Cole turned his head to look at me, his expression unreadable. My hand trembled, and my phone accidentally dropped under the seat. “You said he never comes home every day, could it be his hardware isn’t up to par?” “I sent you a macho man evaluation chart! You have to send me a battle report…” “I’ll buy you a victory battle outfit too, you definitely have to handcuff him to the bedpost…” Cole reached down, picked up the phone, and calmly spoke: “Miss Smith, regarding the $20,000 VIP membership you bought at the Nightfall Club, do you need us to come to your door for some legal education?” Violent coughing came from the other end of the line: “Heh, um… Captain Anderson, we were just doing some art appreciation…” The call disconnected. The car was dead silent. Passing a convenience store, he stopped the car with a cold face. He came back shortly after getting out. He had two small boxes in his hands. “What did you buy…” I asked curiously. He didn’t speak, just shoved them into my hands with a cold face. I looked down. The box clearly displayed “0.01”. Oh my, and it’s extra large.

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Following my family’s arrangement, I married a stern, dull man. On our wedding night, I suggested sleeping in separate rooms. Christian unbuttoned his shirt right in front of me, his eyes dark and deep: “But I have needs.” 1 Christian and I were in a marriage of convenience, prioritizing interests over feelings. He was my brother Carter’s friend, groomed as an heir since childhood—stern, dull, handsome, noble, polite, yet aloof. When I heard him agree to this marriage at the dinner table, I was completely stunned. But then I thought, since I had to marry someone for an alliance anyway, and the partner was Christian, I might as well not be picky. We had just finished our wedding in Beverly Hills. He was a bit drunk, got into the stretch limo, closed his eyes, and didn’t speak. Exhausted from the long day, I suddenly woke up to the realization of what might happen tonight. The ten-minute drive was agonizing, and my breathing grew tense. He shouldn’t be able to do much if he’s drunk, right? I called out to Christian, but there was no response. He must be heavily intoxicated. My hanging heart suddenly dropped. The car stopped, and the man spoke, his voice slightly hoarse: “We’re here.” “You’re awake?” He nodded, picked up my designer clutch, and opened the door to get out. “I can carry it myself.” The thick stack of checks gifted by the guests tonight was all in there. He refused outright, his voice light: “No need, it’s a bit heavy.” In the elevator, it was just Christian and me, standing one behind the other. Neither of us spoke, and the atmosphere was somewhat awkward. Watching the numbers slowly rise, I broke the silence first: “Are you drunk? Do you want me to get you a glass of ice water to sober up?” “No, I’m not drunk. We still have proper business to attend to tonight.” Understanding the meaning behind his words, my cheeks flushed slightly as I repeatedly mentally prepared myself. The elevator stopped. We entered the penthouse, changed into slippers, and pushed the bedroom door open. I froze. A custom “Just Married” banner hung on the wall, the champagne balloons were blinding, and the floor was covered in white and red rose petals. Christian stood behind me at some point, his voice cold: “You’re tired today, get some rest early.” “Do you want to shower first?” “I have some things to take care of, you go first.” Christian went to the study to work. So this was the “proper business” he mentioned. I secretly breathed a sigh of relief, found a relatively conservative pajama set in the closet, and came out after a shower with my hair tied in a bun. My skin had a natural blush from the steam. I applied my skincare routine and dawdled for an hour and a half. Christian had finished his work at some point. He was looking down, unbuttoning his shirt. His Rolex watch and tie were placed on the table. “……Should we sleep in separate rooms?” Christian frowned, remained silent for a moment, and slowly asked, “Why.” “We…… aren’t close.” “We took our vows at the church and it’s legal now. You need to slowly adapt to your identity as Mrs. Pierce.” “Besides, I have needs.” As soon as he said that, the roots of my ears instantly became burning hot. I looked at him in surprise. I didn’t expect him to be so blunt. His eyes darkened, and he softened his tone: “But if you’re not willing, I respect your choice. Let nature take its course.” Anyway, what needs to be done will be done sooner or later. I bit my lip: “Okay then, let’s not sleep in separate rooms.” The pattering sound of water came from the bathroom, and a subtle, strange feeling spread in my heart. My heartbeat quickened. I patted my chest, calming myself down. Stay calm, stay calm. It’s not like I haven’t seen this in movies before. About ten minutes later, the water stopped. Christian wore loungewear, his hair slightly wet. The edge of the bed sank slightly, and I could smell the faint scent of cedarwood on him. I tried to make my voice sound natural: “Do you want to blow-dry your hair?” “No need. My body runs hot, it’ll dry quickly.” “Olivia—” “Hmm?” I looked up to meet those dark eyes. I didn’t know if it was my illusion, but there was a strong aggressiveness in those pitch-black pupils. “I’m turning off the light.” The room instantly plunged into darkness. There was only a small nightlight, casting a warm glow over a small area. I shrank back, creating some distance between us. Before I could react, I was already confined in Christian’s embrace. Having just showered, the man’s body was a bit cool, yet carried a strong sense of intrusion. Even through a thin layer of fabric, I could feel the heat of his skin. I was completely uncomfortable and didn’t dare to move recklessly. My mind was a mess. We looked at each other, both well aware of what was going to happen next. His voice was husky: “Go to sleep.” Unexpectedly, after lying there for a long time, the man next to me didn’t make a move until the sound of even breathing came from beside my ear. He fell asleep? The arm around my waist was firm and strong, our bodies pressed tightly together without a gap. It was hard to fall asleep in this position. Christian was usually cold and aloof towards people. It was rare to see him so passionate tonight. He must have been truly drunk. 2 Christian was very busy with work and went on a business trip abroad on the third day after our wedding. He sent me a simple text message. [On a business trip to France.] I typed in the chat box: [When are you coming back?] Feeling like I was asking too much, I deleted the message. During the week Christian was away, we neither video-called nor texted. I almost forgot I was married. I took a shower at night, and when I reached for my clothes afterward, I grabbed empty air. I forgot to bring my pajamas and only brought my underwear. I was the only one home now, so I stepped right out of the bathroom. I stood in front of the closet for a full eight minutes, picking out a style I had never tried before. Since Christian wasn’t home, I could wear whatever I wanted. No one would see me anyway. Faintly excited, I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror after changing. At first, I was a bit uncomfortable and shy, but I let go later on, eager to try on the next set. Just as I opened the closet, the bedroom door lock clicked open. Caught off guard, I quickly dove under the covers, leaving only my head exposed. I met Christian’s gaze in a panic, frowned, and complained, “Why did you come in without knocking?” My face was burning red. He must have seen everything just now. I really wanted to dig a hole and hide. Christian’s face was impassive, his Adam’s apple bobbed slightly, and his voice betrayed no emotion: “Sorry, I’ll pay attention next time.” “Then get out quickly, I need to change.” The door closed, and I quickly changed back into my original pajamas. My face felt burning hot, and I splashed some cold water on it. My lower abdomen suddenly cramped with a dull pain. My period was here. I was a restless sleeper and easily stained the sheets. There were no period panties at home, and I was too lazy to go out and buy them late at night. I was hesitating whether to sleep in the guest room tonight, so even if the sheets got dirty, it wouldn’t be embarrassing. Christian came in. His hair was still damp with steam, and he had changed into loungewear. He obviously just finished showering, his gaze dark and deep. “Something wrong?” I pursed my lips: “I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.” “Why?” “The central AC in this room doesn’t seem to be cooling well. I run hot.” “I’ll go sleep next door too.” “Christian, why are you following me.” His voice was cold: “I run hot too.” I looked up at him: “It’ll be even hotter with two people sleeping together.” Christian met my gaze and said seriously: “Then let’s turn the AC temperature down a bit.” “……” “Forget it, I’ll just sleep here.” I slept fitfully that night, anxious and afraid. When I woke up the next day and saw the clean sheets, I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness I didn’t stain them. After washing up and going downstairs, Christian was sitting upright at the dining table, breakfast already laid out. He looked up, his voice light: “Morning.” “It’s already nine o’clock, aren’t you going to work today?” “Grandmother asked us to go back to the estate today.” “Then I’ll change clothes later.” “Drink this soup before it gets cold. Martha made it this morning.” I took a look. It was a bowl of nutritious hot soup made with organic ingredients and high protein…… “Why did Martha make this?” “To supplement your nutrition, it’s good for your body.” “Does your stomach hurt?” “I’m fine, I don’t have those reactions.” Changing the subject, I blinked and stared straight at him: “Christian, you care about me so much. Do you have a secret crush on me?” I could never figure out why Christian agreed to marry into my family. He had a perfectly good marriage prospect right beside him—his childhood friend, the socialite Blair. They were a match made in heaven, and everyone agreed they would end up together. His dark eyes looked at me, and he refused bluntly: “No.” Then he added: “I’ve always been openly in love.” “Oh.” Turns out I was overthinking. “I brought back a batch of haute couture dresses from France. They’re on the third floor, go try them on.” My eyes instantly lit up, and the disappointment from a moment ago was swept away. A marriage of convenience, no feelings, treating each other with respect, not bothering each other. This was pretty good too. 3 When we arrived at the Pierce family estate, it was just in time for lunch. At the dining table, the conversation turned to the Smith family having a new grandson. “When do you two plan to have one?” I was drinking soup and almost choked on those words. I put down my spoon, feeling a bit awkward, and secretly pinched Christian’s thigh. “Olivia is still young. It’s not appropriate to consider having a baby right now. Besides, we just got married. Having kids is a bit too fast.” “That’s true, but you should start taking good care of your bodies now. You’re almost thirty, getting older. Take care of your health, don’t stay up late working all the time and ruin your body.” “Mom, you don’t need to worry about these things. I’ll take care of it myself.” “There’s still some premium slow-cooked bone marrow broth at home. I’ll have them bring it out for you two later to nourish your bodies. Just stay at the estate tonight, the rooms are already prepared.” The family kept a sheepdog. After dinner, I took the dog out for a walk. “I can walk the dog by myself, you don’t need to follow me.” I wasn’t very close to Christian, and sometimes being alone with him felt a bit awkward. “If he goes crazy outside later, you won’t be able to hold him.” “Buster looks pretty well-behaved.” “Let’s go.” Christian put his hands in his pockets. Taking advantage of his long legs, he walked at an unhurried, slow pace. I deliberately quickened my steps to widen the distance between us, walking one in front of the other. Buster was full of energy. After walking for nearly half an hour, I was almost dead tired. “You hold him, I need to rest.” Christian smiled: “Tired already? You were walking too fast just now.” Panting slightly, I took out my phone. “Look, I’ve already walked over ten thousand steps. I really don’t want to walk anymore.” “Then let’s sit here for a while.” There were no benches around, but there was a large rock nearby. I was getting ready to sit on it and rest a bit. “Wait a minute.” He took off his suit jacket and placed it on the rock. “Sit on this.” The top button of his white shirt was undone, faintly revealing the outline of his shoulder muscles—lean and powerful, exuding a strong sense of pressure. My heartbeat accelerated a bit. Christian’s physique was surprisingly good, very attractive. “Sit here for a while, I’ll go buy some water.” “Okay.” “Olivia—” Hearing someone call me, I looked up and froze for a moment. It was Noah, my crush from high school. He used to be my neighbor. I was going to confess to him after the high school prom, but I accidentally heard the news that he was going to study in Europe. That feeling died before it even started, and I sulked at home for two months over the summer. “Noah, when did you get back to the country?” “I just came back recently.” “Are you living around here now?” “No, I came to visit a friend.” “Have some water.” Christian came back from buying water and handed me a bottle of room-temperature water. “Is this your boyfriend?” Christian’s expression remained undisturbed. He reached out his hand politely and said, “Hello, I am Olivia’s husband, Christian Pierce.” Noah froze slightly, looking surprised: “You’re married?” “Just recently. I hadn’t had the time to tell you yet.” After chatting briefly with Noah, we ended the conversation. On the way back, Christian was a bit strange, quieter than ever before. Once through the door, I couldn’t hold it in and asked, “Christian, are you a little unhappy?” He looked at me for a moment and pondered: “He’s the guy you had a crush on in high school.” I was a bit bewildered: “Who?” “Noah.” My eyes widened in surprise: “How did you know?” Only my brother and I knew about this. At that time, my parents thought I was depressed because I didn’t get into an Ivy League school. He silently loosened his tie, his tone low: “I guessed.” “Then you’re quite the psychic. But I stopped liking him a long time ago. We haven’t been in touch for years.” “Why?” “……International calling rates were too expensive.” He curled his lips and laughed out loud. I had sweat a little outside, and my body felt sticky and uncomfortable. I went to the room to take a shower first. After coming out, I searched around and finally found Christian in the study. I didn’t bother him and went downstairs to watch TV for a while. Grandmother was busy with something in the kitchen. After a while, she brought out a large bowl of thick soup. “Olivia, you and Christian drink this slow-cooked bone marrow and seafood bisque. I had someone simmer it all afternoon, it tastes delicious.” “Thank you, Grandmother.” “I’m going to sleep first. Make sure you watch Christian finish this bowl. He has dark circles under his eyes, he needs the nourishment.” I licked my lips. The walk earlier had just burned some calories, and I was a bit hungry now. I served myself a bowl. The hot soup slid down my throat into my stomach with a sweet aftertaste, making me feel much better. I carried the remaining soup to find Christian. He was taking a shower. The pattering sound of water came from the bathroom. Christian showered quickly and came out in a few minutes. I looked down, scrolling through my phone, not looking at him, and said lazily, “Drink the soup. Grandmother had someone make it.” “Did you drink any?” I nodded and looked at him: “I just had some.” “Do you want more?” I licked my lips: “A little, but that’s saved for you.” “I’m not hungry.” “I don’t like eating the meat in it.” “You drink the soup, leave the meat for me.” I hesitated for a second, picked up the spoon, and smiled: “Then I won’t be polite.” After finishing the rich soup, I brushed my teeth and lay in bed, feeling uncomfortable all over. “Could you…… move over a bit? It’s a little hot being this close.” Even though the AC was on in the room, my body still felt burning hot. I tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep, making restless noises. Christian sat up and turned on the light. “Are you not feeling well?” I frowned and groaned: “It’s so hot.” I wished I could take all my clothes off. “Aren’t you hot?” “It’s probably because I drank too much of that high-protein soup.” “Can you pour me a glass of ice water?” The pajamas I was wearing were simply too hot. I found a silk camisole in the closet. After changing into it, I felt much cooler. Christian pushed the door open and came in. He stood frozen in place for a moment before bringing the water over. His voice was husky: “Drink more water to lower your internal concentration.” “Why is it warm?” “You’re still on your period, you can’t drink ice water.” “I’m going to take a shower. Call me anytime if you feel unwell.” I blinked and said bluntly: “Didn’t you just take a shower?” He pursed his lips and pretended to say casually: “I’m a bit hot too.” I felt much better after drinking the water, not as restless and hot. Christian took a really long shower. The sound of the water splashed on and on, seemingly never stopping. Worried something might have happened inside, I approached the door and softly called Christian’s name. Silence. Then, faint, subtle panting sounds came from inside. I called out again. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?” “Why are you showering for so long?” His voice was a bit low: “Coming out right away.” A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened. Christian had changed into a set of pajamas, buttoned all the way to the top, tightly covered. I furrowed my brows: “Aren’t you hot? Buttoning it so tightly.” Maybe I had nourished myself too much tonight, and it fried my brain. I stood straight up, moved close to Christian, and unbuttoned his shirt one by one. With his pajamas half-open, I could faintly see the bulging lines of the man’s muscles and his increasingly taut abs. I instantly held my breath. My fingertips trembled as they glided across his skin. I bit my lip and asked somewhat nervously, “Can I touch them?” Christian didn’t speak for a long time. He looked down at me from above. Because of the shower, his gaze was deeper than before. I felt inexplicably flustered. Just as I was about to pull my hand back, Christian grabbed it. The palm of his hand was boiling hot. The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, his voice low and hoarse: “You can—” My entire palm rested on the man’s muscles. They were hot and hard. I traced upward along his abs, inch by inch. “Enough.” Christian’s gaze turned scorching, his throat tight: “I’ll sleep on the sofa.” 4 I tossed and turned too late last night. When I woke up, it was almost eleven o’clock. Christian had gone to work. I said goodbye to the elders and went home. I had been unemployed and resting for half a year. Recently, I sent out my resume on LinkedIn and had an interview scheduled for the afternoon. The whole process went smoothly. I applied for a receptionist position. The work was simple, allowed for slacking off, and killed time. Christian’s company was nearby, just a few steps away. He sent a message half an hour ago: Wait for me a bit, we’ll go home together. I pressed the button. The moment the elevator doors opened, I saw a familiar face. “Noah, you work on this floor too.” Seeing me, Noah smiled: “This is my startup company. Just a few years old.” I opened my mouth in surprise: “What a coincidence! I just finished my interview here today. I start next week.” There were other people in the elevator, and Noah seemed to have other things to attend to, so we just exchanged a few brief pleasantries. “I haven’t had the chance to treat you to dinner since I got back. Let me treat you when you’re free.” “Sure.” When I got to the ground floor of Pierce Group, I sent Christian a message asking if he was done. A few minutes passed without a reply. He was probably still busy. This was my first time at his company, and I wasn’t familiar with it. I called his assistant. Five minutes later, his assistant David came down and brought me up to the executive office. I pushed the office door open. The man was on the phone, a cigar clamped in his mouth, his long legs crossed. I was a bit surprised. This was the first time I had seen this side of Christian. He glanced up at me, then continued conversing with the person on the phone. His voice was cold, devoid of any emotion. I sat on the sofa, casually picked up a copy of The Wall Street Journal nearby, and flipped through it. It was all business information, absolutely no entertainment, quite dry. The phone call ended. Christian flicked the cigar ash, put it out in the ashtray, and picked up his suit jacket from the chair. I yawned: “So you’re done.” “Yeah, we can head back.” “How was the job hunt?” “I’m very satisfied. Do you know who our boss is?” “Who?” “Noah! I only found out after finishing the interview.” Christian’s face was devoid of emotion as he spoke slowly: “You’ve chosen this company?” I introduced it enthusiastically, beaming: “Hehe. Four days on, three days off. 10 AM to 5 PM. Plus afternoon tea and team building. I could work in this position until I retire.” “Do you want to come to my company? Same benefits, double the salary.” I shook my head, rejecting it instantly: “No, no. You’re a big corporation. The workload is more than double. Besides, everyone in the company knows me. I wouldn’t have any freedom.” He didn’t say anything more. On the way back, he continued recommending other companies to me, all of which I turned down. “Noah and I know each other. He’ll take care of me at work, so you can rest assured.” Christian scoffed internally. “Commute together from now on?” “No need. You start at nine, I start at ten. The times are different. I can sleep in a bit longer.” “Pull over at the Target ahead. I need to buy something.” Walking into the daily necessities aisle, sanitary pads were on sale. I planned to stock up more this time, as we didn’t have many left at home. Christian stood behind me, asking seriously: “It hasn’t ended yet?” I froze for a moment, then understood what he meant. My ears felt hot as I explained quietly, “It ended a few days ago. I’m just stocking up.” His eyes lit up a little, and his mood visibly improved. After grabbing what I needed, I walked ahead. Christian followed behind, tossing a few more items into the cart. I didn’t look back, and he tossed a few more in. As we headed for the cashier, half the cart was filled with those little boxes. My brain stalled for a moment as I looked up at Christian. My voice was quieter than a mosquito: “Why did you buy so many?” “Is it a lot?” “If this isn’t a lot, what is? What if someone sees?” “Then let’s use the self-checkout.” Christian led me out to the self-checkout. There were small shelves nearby filled with those little boxes, and he grabbed a few more. I glared at him, threatening: “Stop grabbing them, that’s enough.” He pursed his lips, his voice deep: “These are a different type from the ones just now.” “……”

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Henry had a female “buddy.” Their bond was so tight they’d share a bed, even scoop ice cream from the same bowl. I insisted they keep their distance. He grew impatient: “If anything was going to happen between us, it would’ve happened ages ago. Can’t we just trust each other?” Fine. I turned around and found myself a male best friend.

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