Category: English

Elias stole my brother’s girlfriend. My brother hugged my legs and wept hysterically for three days and three nights. I felt incredibly bad for him. To force Elias to give my brother his girlfriend back… I packed up my entire life savings and confronted him. “Um, could you please give Chloe back to my brother? He really, really likes her!” Elias looked at me with a half-smile. “Why should I?” I held up my purse triumphantly. “I brought money! You can have it all!” “This isn’t nearly enough. I want a million dollars.” I panicked. “But I don’t have a million dollars! Can you wait a little bit? I’ll go ask my brother for it.” He refused. “The offer is only good for today. If you don’t have the cash, there are other ways to pay off the debt.” My eyes lit up. “Like what?” He leaned in close. “Every time Hazel kisses me, it counts as a hundred dollars.” 1 Elias and I were childhood sweethearts. When I was little, my family lived in the countryside, right next door to Elias’s grandmother. My parents always said his grandmother lived all alone and was very lonely, so we needed to take good care of her. Later, her daughter moved back home, bringing her son with her. The three of us kids basically grew up together. Everyone loved Elias. Except my brother. My brother always felt like Elias was trying to steal me away from him, so he absolutely despised him. That hatred persisted from our childhood all the way to the present day. Lately, my brother hated Elias even more. Because his girlfriend had recently broken up with him. He racked his brain, investigated everywhere, and finally discovered she had been in close contact with Elias. The two of them frequently chatted late into the night, often for hours at a time. My brother was a sobbing mess. He clung to me and wailed, “Elias is a manipulative snake! I’ll hate him for the rest of my life!” He cried so tragically. I realized I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. I went to the bank, withdrew my cash, stuffed it into my purse, gathered my courage, and went to find Elias. My brother always said Elias was a ruthless businessman driven entirely by profit. I figured I had to offer him enough compensation to make him stop seducing Chloe. I counted the money in my purse. I had a full fifty thousand dollars! This was my life savings! I had been saving this for twenty years! New Year’s money from my parents, allowance from my brother, and even the red envelopes Elias had given me over the years—it was all in there. Clutching my life savings, I set out on my mission. 2 I guarded my purse with my life all the way to his hotel room. Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door. Elias had apparently just finished showering. He answered the door wearing only a towel wrapped low around his waist, rubbing his dripping wet hair with a smaller towel. A drop of water fell from his hair, tracing a slow, trembling path down his collarbone… Over his chest, down his abs, past his V-line… And then… Just as I leaned in to get a better look, he reached out and aggressively ruffled my hair. “Hazel, where are you looking?” I frantically denied it. “I wasn’t looking anywhere!” He grabbed my hand. “Do you want a closer look?” Seeing him reach for the towel, I shook my head wildly. “No, no, no! I’m here on business!” Elias looked genuinely disappointed. He took my hand and led me into the room. He pulled me down onto the sofa with him and handed me the hairdryer. “Dry my hair first?” I sat on his lap, straightening up to blow-dry his hair. He wrapped his arms around my waist, shifting his position to accommodate the angle of the hairdryer. I was basically a pro at this; I’d dried his hair countless times! Over the buzzing of the hairdryer, Elias asked, “Why did my baby come looking for me so late tonight?” His hair was short, so on the highest setting, it dried quickly. I turned off the hairdryer and put on my most serious face. “Why did you steal Chloe?” Elias tilted his head, confused. “Chloe?” “Chloe Vance! She’s my brother’s girlfriend! She broke up with him a few days ago, and my brother says it’s all your fault!” He had literally cried at me for three days and three nights. Every day when he came home, he just sobbed and cursed Elias. My ears were practically bleeding from hearing it! I decided things couldn’t go on like this. As a good little sister, I had to step up and help my brother. Elias gently nibbled on my earlobe, murmuring indistinctly, “Baby, all I did was analyze the pros and cons for Chloe.” Aha! So it was his fault! I glared at him fiercely. “It’s all your fault for stealing Chloe!” My ear felt wet. He was so annoying! I was trying to have a serious conversation with him; why was he acting like this?! “What does my baby want me to do?” “Give Chloe back to my brother!” He tilted his head back, his dark, wet eyes gleaming with amusement. “Why should I?” I looked around frantically, then pointed at my purse on the side table. “My purse!” I unzipped it. “I brought money! You can have it all! If you just give Chloe back to my brother, it’s yours!” He glanced at it casually. “How much is in there?” I puffed out my chest proudly. “Fifty thousand! It’s my entire life savings!” Elias pinched my cheek playfully. “Hazel is so amazing, saving up fifty thousand.” Before I could even celebrate the compliment, he shifted gears. “Fifty thousand isn’t enough.” I froze. “Then how much do you want?” Elias smiled lazily. “A million.” I completely forgot Elias was ridiculously rich. No wonder he wasn’t impressed by my fifty thousand. My head drooped. “I don’t have a million.” But my brother does! I’ll go borrow it from him! My mood instantly brightened. I looked at him with big, pleading eyes. “Can you wait two days? I’ll get it to you in two days.” He rejected the offer. “I’m only agreeing to this today. If you wait until tomorrow, the price goes up to five million.” Five million! That’s way too much! My brother definitely wouldn’t give me that much. I completely deflated, wilting like a dying flower. Elias comforted me. “There are other ways to pay off the debt.” I asked blankly, “Like what?” Elias leaned in close, his lips brushing my ear. “Hazel… give yourself to me.” 3 “Ugh, it hurts…” “Elias, be gentle…” I glared at him with tear-filled eyes. He tried to be lighter, but it still stung. I whimpered, “Ow!” He sighed helplessly. “Dummy, who told you to run?” I was sitting on the edge of the bed with my knees pulled up. Elias was half-kneeling on the floor in front of me, applying ointment to my scraped knees. I had run too fast earlier and wiped out completely! How could he blame me for running? It was his fault for saying such weird things! He actually said he wanted me! Of course I was going to run! What if he dismantled me and sold me for parts?! Paying off a debt with your own body is a terrifying concept! I had heard so many horror stories about debtors being lured out and having their organs harvested to be sold on the black market! It was horrifying! I absolutely refused to give myself to him to settle a debt. How was I supposed to know the hallway floor had just been mopped and was incredibly slippery? I was running so fast, I took a massive, epic spill. My knees were completely bruised. Hearing the commotion, Elias had rushed out. When he saw me, I couldn’t stop the tears from falling. “Elias…” Looking completely heartbroken, he bent down and scooped me up. “How did you fall?” I sobbed, “It’s your fault for scaring me.” He carried me back to the hotel bed and ordered room service to bring up a first-aid kit. My knees were scraped raw and hurt so, so much. He used a cotton swab dipped in iodine to disinfect the cuts. Elias was so clumsy at it; it hurt like crazy. To keep the hem of my dress from brushing against the wounds, I pulled it up a little higher. I poked his shoulder. “Hurry up and put the medicine on!” His gaze slowly drifted upward. The next second, his large hand clamped down firmly on my bare thigh. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he said hoarsely, “Hazel, hold still.” I obediently waited for him to finish. Once my knees were covered in iodine, I inspected his work. Yep, all done! “Done!” I gave Elias a light push. “Let go of my leg, I need to go home.” His fingertips lightly brushed the edge of my dress. He said in a low, raspy voice, “Hazel hasn’t achieved her goal for coming here today yet.” Oh, right! He still hadn’t agreed to give Chloe back to my brother! I frowned in frustration. “But I really don’t have a million dollars.” “Then kiss me. Each kiss counts as a hundred dollars.” I grew even more frustrated. “A hundred dollars a kiss means I have to kiss you ten thousand times to reach a million!” My lips would literally fall off! Unless he raised his rates, I was absolutely not kissing him! Elias nodded in agreement, then asked for my input: “Should we try a different payment plan?” I looked at him expectantly. “Like what?” “Let me kiss you. One kiss counts as a thousand.” When he kisses me, it usually takes at least ten minutes. A thousand kisses means… a thousand times! By the time he finished, my brother would have literally cried himself to death. Seeming to sense my intense dissatisfaction. Elias proposed another solution. His fingertips began trailing slowly upward. I wasn’t entirely sure what he was trying to do. I gripped the bedsheets tightly. “Elias…” His Adam’s apple jumped as he gently pressed against the fabric. “Baby, let me kiss you, and I’ll make sure Chloe goes back to your brother.” Is he allowed to kiss me there…? I clung to a shred of rationality. “No, only boyfriends are allowed to do that.” He leaned in closer. “Baby, aren’t I your boyfriend?” My brain felt completely foggy. “Huh? Are you?” He nodded seriously. “Yes. You promised Grandma you’d be my wife.” “But wasn’t that just to make Grandma happy?” “Baby, I took it very seriously.” He meticulously laid out his logic. “Plus, if I’m your boyfriend, I won’t steal Chloe anymore.” He made a very solid point. I hesitated, then conceded, “Okay, I give you permission to be my boyfriend.” He smiled, looking incredibly satisfied. “So good.” I was also incredibly satisfied. “Problem solved!” I scrambled off the bed, ready to head home. Elias grabbed my leg and yanked me right back onto the mattress. I looked at him, utterly confused. “What’s wrong?” His voice was dark and low. “Baby, you haven’t let me kiss you yet. You can’t break a promise.” But… but… Elias was relentlessly stubborn, insisting I cash in my end of the bargain immediately. I bit my lip, agonizing over it. “Only one kiss, okay?” 4 Bzzzt—Bzzzt— Bzzzt—Bzzzt— My phone had been tossed somewhere near the headboard. I begged him, “The phone.” Elias’s heavy breathing was right next to my ear. He reached over, grabbed the phone, and handed it to me. With trembling fingers, I swiped to answer. My brother’s voice came through the speaker. “Hazel, where are you?” “I… I’m at…” I absolutely could not tell my brother I was with Elias. He hated Elias right now. If he knew, he would definitely yell at me. “Ah… I’m cooking! Yes, I’m cooking dinner!” My brother didn’t suspect a thing. “What bizarre concoction are you trying to make now? If I had known, I would have bought you an apartment without a kitchen so you’d stop wasting good food.” “Me? Ah, I’m not wasting food.” My brother scoffed. “Right, sure. You’re not wasting food, you’re just wasting medical resources. You’re the only person I know who managed to cook themselves straight into the ER.” His tone turned serious. “If whatever you make looks weird, do not eat it. If you give yourself food poisoning again, I am not covering for you with Mom and Dad.” I nodded frantically, though he couldn’t see me. “Uh-huh.” Maybe my responses were too distracted, because he suddenly grew suspicious. “Hazel, why are you being so quiet today?” “I’m busy…” Thankfully, my brother was just making casual conversation. He moved on to the real reason he called. “Hazel, could you ask Chloe if she’s free tomorrow for me?” My brother and Chloe had always had a great relationship. Her sudden, out-of-the-blue breakup had absolutely devastated him. Chloe and I were still on good terms. Right now, I was the only person who could act as a bridge between them. “Okay.” As soon as I agreed, I gasped and paused. My brother instantly caught the anomaly. “Hazel, what’s wrong?” “…I bumped my head.” “Be careful. You’re a grown adult, how are you still so clumsy?” [He wanted to keep fussing over me, but I aggressively cut the conversation short.] “Brother, I need to get back to cooking. My kettle is boiling, I have to go pour the water!” “Alright, go do your thing. Just don’t forget to ask Chloe for me.” The line went dead. Confirming the call was disconnected, I burst into tears. “I’m going to saw your nose off!”

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We were out watching the New Year’s Eve fireworks when my son ran straight up to a police officer and demanded a hug. The problem was, the officer he was hugging… was my ex-boyfriend. My instinct was to turn and run, but then I heard this little kid drop an absolute bomb: “Mommy! I found Daddy!” 01 On New Year’s Eve, I took Leo out to see the fireworks. I took my eyes off him for one second, and the little guy vanished. Cold sweat instantly broke out on my forehead. I frantically searched through the massive, shoulder-to-shoulder crowd. I screamed, “Leo! Leo!” Just as I was panicking enough to start looking for a cop, my eyes caught something. I saw Leo’s tiny little body desperately tugging at the utility belt of a tall police officer. He kept chanting, “Mister! Mister, hold me!” The man had a sharp, cold jawline and devastatingly handsome features. Standing tall in his uniform, he was incredibly striking, commanding attention even in the dense crowd. He looked down at the little dumpling tugging at him, and the corner of his mouth unconsciously curled into a gentle smile. He crouched down, smoothly hoisted Leo up, and set him securely on his broad shoulders, holding him tight. He even asked softly, “Can you see better now, buddy?” This picture-perfect scene of a handsome officer protecting a child immediately drew the crowd’s attention. Several people pulled out their phones, snapping pictures of the heartwarming moment. Amidst the noise and cheering, I was the only one standing completely frozen in place. Someone next to me nudged my arm. “Is that your kid? Why aren’t you going over to get him?” I opened my mouth, but I had absolutely no idea what to say. The kid was definitely mine. But the man used to be mine, too. Wait, scratch that. He was mine. 02 I hesitated, unsure of how to approach them. After all, I was the one who dumped Arthur. After three years of dating, I didn’t even give him a reason. I just sent a single text: [I don’t think this is working out anymore. Let’s break up.] Arthur called me relentlessly and sent countless messages. I blocked every single one. I ruthlessly left the city, thinking I would never cross paths with him again for the rest of my life. I never expected that during a brief trip back to my hometown to visit some graves with Leo… I’d run straight into him. Looking at his increasingly mature, handsome face, the years had only added a sharper, harder edge to his features. I suddenly remembered the final message he ever sent me. Having given up on desperately begging, his tone was freezing cold: [Mia, for the rest of your life, you better pray you never cross my path!] [Because if you do, I will destroy you!] His personality had always been tough and uncompromising. He was a regional taekwondo and kickboxing champion—a fact he had… well… demonstrated during our relationship. I fully believed he could destroy me. So for all the years since I left him, I didn’t even dare to double-park my car. I lived in constant fear that the cop writing the ticket would turn out to be him. I hesitated for a long time. I watched my kid excitedly pulling Arthur’s hair and rubbing his dirty face all over Arthur’s uniform, leaving a massive dark smudge on the pristine navy-blue collar. I decided it was safer to stay hidden. I figured I’d just keep a close eye on Leo. Once the fireworks were over and he got down, I’d secretly follow him, grab him, and run home. But I never anticipated that right as the countdown to the fireworks began, the little guy would suddenly start twisting his head around, scanning the crowd. The second he spotted me, his huge eyes lit up like floodlights. I panicked. I was just about to mouth the words: “Don’t yell! Mommy will come get you in a minute!” But he excitedly smacked Arthur’s handsome face and screamed at the top of his lungs: “Daddy! My Mommy is right there!” 03 Me: … Arthur: ? Amidst the absolute chaos, only Leo looked incredibly proud, raising his chin triumphantly. He shot me a sly, expectant look, clearly saying: “Mommy, I did a great job, right?” 04 Okay, fine. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have spent late nights crying over old photos of Arthur and me. And I definitely shouldn’t have answered Leo when he pointed at the screen and asked, “Mommy, who is that?” I boldly declared: “That’s the person Mommy loves.” But my absolute, catastrophic mistake was… When he asked, “What does ‘the person you love’ mean?” I gave him a highly inappropriate explanation: “It means the person Mommy loves exactly like how a mommy is supposed to love a daddy.” So, his toddler brain connected the dots: Daddy, Mommy, and Love. He also understood that Mommies and Daddies were supposed to be together. Therefore, he firmly concluded that Arthur was his biological father. Under Arthur’s scrutinizing, deeply shocked gaze, the little guy extended his short, chubby arms toward me, waving frantically. “Mommy! Come here! We’re supposed to be together!” Me: … I genuinely did not want to move. Because the look in Arthur’s eyes felt like he was about to eat me alive. Not to mention the crowd around him, who were practically vibrating with excitement. “Oh, they’re a family! No wonder they looked so perfect together.” “Exactly! The dad is gorgeous, the mom is beautiful, and they have such an adorable kid. What a happy family.” “Don’t be shy, young lady, go to your husband!” My face was burning red. I shook my head frantically. But Leo burst into loud, heartbroken wails, hiccuping pitifully. “Mommy… Mommy, come here…” Oh god. Son, doing this makes me look like I’m committing child abuse. Finally, Arthur couldn’t stand it anymore. With his long legs, he slowly strode through the parting crowd until he was standing right in front of me. His signature scent—a mix of crisp mint and the lavender detergent he always loved—wafted over me, absolutely undeniable. A flood of familiar memories rushed to the surface of my mind. “Arthur, you sweat so much every day! Use this detergent, it smells so, so good!” The man gave a faint smirk, reached out his long arm, and pulled me flush against his chest. “Not as good as you.” My face flushed scarlet, and I struggled playfully, tugging on his ear. “Ahhh! Officer Arthur, how are you so smooth?! Do all the girls chasing you know this?” He laughed, pressing an incredibly tender kiss to my lips. “I’m only like this with you, Ms. Mia.” The memories slowly settled. I looked up at the man standing before me, who was significantly taller than I was. As the fireworks bloomed overhead, illuminating the moment our eyes met, I heard his deep, low voice. “Long time no see, Mia.” I forced a strained smile. I was just about to offer a polite greeting when I heard a furious, gritted question: “Is this kid mine?” 05 Obviously not. The kid was over five years old. We broke up exactly three years ago. The math simply didn’t add up. Arthur clearly realized this too, and his handsome face turned even darker. He gripped Leo’s chubby little legs tightly to make sure he didn’t fall off his shoulders. But the veins bulging on the back of his hands made it glaringly obvious just how furious he was. My heart was hammering in my chest. I watched the rest of the fireworks display in sheer terror. Just as I was about to grab the kid and make a run for it, a group of his fellow officers swarmed us. “Bro, is this the sister-in-law you never stop talking about?” “Yeah, yeah! It’s her! She’s the lock screen on your phone!” Me: ? Arthur, who had been pursued by countless girls his entire life and was basically a legendary catch, actually kept a photo of me this whole time? And made it his lock screen? My heart gave a sudden, violent lurch. I couldn’t help but look at the man beside me. His jaw was clenched tight. He barked coldly: “Shut up!” “Fall in line! Get back to your posts!” The officers quickly scattered. But Leo still refused to let go of Arthur. His massive eyes filled with tears, and he asked pitifully, “Daddy, where are you going?” I panicked and tried to forcefully pull Leo away. But the kid was clinging to Arthur like a koala. Arthur furrowed his brow, a flicker of genuine tenderness crossing his eyes. Ultimately, he crouched down, opening his mouth as if to say something. Leo’s lower lip quivered. Looking devastatingly sad, tears immediately spilled down his cheeks. “Daddy, Leo wants to go home with you!” “Are you throwing Leo away again?!” The heartache in Arthur’s eyes instantly spilled over. Before I could even try to stop him, he scooped Leo up into his arms. His voice was deep and heavy. “Let’s go. Daddy’s taking you home.” Me: ? Huh? 06 The little guy seemed to genuinely adore Arthur. Even after we got into the police cruiser, his tiny hand kept a death grip on the corner of Arthur’s uniform shirt. Arthur had no choice but to speak softly, coaxing him to sleep. It was actually bizarre. Ever since he turned two, the kid had been a nightmare at bedtime. Normally, he wouldn’t close his eyes before 2 AM. But Arthur only had to murmur a few soothing words, and Leo immediately closed his eyes, falling into a deep, peaceful sleep nestled against his chest. Me: ? Son, acting like this makes your mother look completely useless. Arthur handed the sleeping child back to me and climbed into the driver’s seat. “Where to?” “Xing’an Apartments.” Arthur started the engine and let out a cold, sharp scoff. I suddenly realized why. When we broke up, Arthur said he was going to come find me. I told him I had moved. I told him he would never find me! The reality was… not only did I not move, I had been living right next door to his precinct this entire time. This is so awkward. I offered a sheepish smile, desperately trying to think of something to say to praise this dedicated public servant for driving me home. Suddenly, he asked coldly: “Where’s the kid’s father?” “Did you get a divorce?” Me: ? Bro, we broke up three years ago. How is it biologically possible for me to have a five-year-old son? In the dark cabin of the cruiser, a flash of deep sorrow crossed Arthur’s sharp profile. He said chillingly, “You met him while I was studying for the civil service exam, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. During our second year of dating, Arthur was completely consumed by studying for his police exams, while I was preparing to apply for grad school overseas. We were long-distance and rarely saw each other. So… Arthur actually thought I had cheated on him during that time? I felt a flare of irritation and leaned back against the seat. “Arthur, I can’t believe you think I cheated on you! “I am so incredibly hurt!” My tone was bright and teasing, exactly how I used to talk to him when we were deeply in love. Arthur stiffened violently and turned to look at me. A fleeting look of desperate hope flashed in his eyes: “So… this child… “Whose is he?” 07 Me: “Well, he’s definitely not yours.” Arthur: … 08 I really wasn’t lying. The kid was actually my brother’s. But my brother wasn’t my biological brother. I was an orphan, my parents having passed away when I was very young. When I was 14, my brother, who had come to my rural village to invest in a tourism project, adopted me. He took me out of the village, paid for my education, and was even preparing to send me overseas for my master’s degree. Everything was perfect. He married his high school sweetheart, and my sister-in-law treated me wonderfully. My original plan was to bring Arthur home to meet them before I left for grad school. But then— My brother and sister-in-law were in a horrific car accident while on vacation. They both died, leaving behind their two-year-old son, Leo. I looked down at the child sleeping soundly, completely innocent and carefree in my arms. I remembered my sister-in-law’s dying wish. “Mia… don’t let him… become an orphan. From now on… you are his mother.” The memory rushed back, suffocating me. I looked at the man sitting next to me—handsome, radiating integrity, with a brilliant future ahead of him. I swallowed all the words I wanted to say. Arthur seemed to sense my withdrawal and got angry. He turned his face away, refusing to look at me. “Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t care about your business. “I was just asking.” 09 I nodded, saying quietly: “Yeah. I know.” Arthur had been a “school heartthrob” his entire life, and now he had such a respected, honorable career. There were probably countless girls lining up for him. How could he possibly still care about me? My eyes caught the name lighting up his phone screen: [Lindsay.] A girl’s name. Wait, why does that name sound like his younger sister? As I was silently questioning it, Arthur hung up the call and flipped his phone face down. He shot me a glance and said flatly, “With you here, it’s inconvenient.” True. When your ex-girlfriend and your current girlfriend collide, it’s obviously going to be inconvenient. Just then, the car pulled up to Xing’an Apartments. I hurriedly grabbed Leo and stepped out, constantly repeating my thanks: “Thank you… Thank you…” But with a heavy child in my arms, I couldn’t get the car door open. Arthur got out, walked around, and pulled my door open. I lost my balance and stumbled forward, falling straight into his chest. To make sure Leo didn’t get squished, I instinctively twisted my body, but my head crashed uncontrollably against Arthur. My soft lips grazed the exposed skin of his neck. A reflexively soft murmur escaped my lips: “Thank you… Officer Arthur.” This posture, this exact tone of voice. It was exactly how I used to beg for mercy when Arthur had me pinned to the bed, playfully teasing and tormenting me. Arthur’s entire body went rigidly stiff. His ears instantly flushed crimson. The red rapidly spread all the way to his cheeks. He steadied me and let out two incredibly unnatural, forced coughs. “You. Stand up straight. “Stop trying to seduce me. I have no interest in you.” Me: … He was exactly the same as before. Serious and stoic, but with a hidden layer of arrogant, introverted vanity. “I know.” After solemnly thanking Arthur again, I carried Leo toward my building. But I never expected to run into a group of unwelcome guests right at the entrance. 10 “Give us the kid back!” It was my sister-in-law’s adoptive parents. Ever since my brother and sister-in-law died, they had come knocking multiple times. But it wasn’t because they wanted the child back. It was because they wanted to monopolize the massive life insurance payout my brother and sister-in-law left behind. I had witnessed with my own eyes how they abused Leo in the past, which is exactly why my sister-in-law desperately pleaded with me on her deathbed: “Please, never let Leo fall into their hands.” Right now, I held the child tightly against me, covering his ears, and snapped: “He is my child! Who are you people? Get lost!” Mr. and Mrs. Zhang refused to leave. “Bullshit! Leo is my daughter’s kid! You’re an unmarried girl with no kids of your own, what gives you the right to raise him? “Give him back!” They lunged forward to rip the child from my arms. Leo was terrified and burst into tears. He clung desperately to my neck, screaming for his mother. I shielded him with one arm and used the other to shove the two elderly people away. They started screaming at the top of their lungs: “Everyone, come look! This girl is kidnapping a child! “She doesn’t even have a husband, but claims the kid is hers! Come look at this!” Several residents came out of their apartments to watch the commotion, pointing and whispering at me. “I know her. Isn’t that the Chen family’s daughter? She’s not even married, where did she get a fatherless kid?” “Maybe the kid belongs to her dead brother, and she’s trying to keep him to steal the inheritance…” Dead. Brother. Seeing Leo’s massive eyes darting around nervously. I clamped my hands tighter over his ears. “Stop talking nonsense! Get the hell out of here!” Leo realized the danger I was in. Ignoring what the people were saying, he screamed: “Leo has a Daddy! “Leo’s Daddy is right there!” Leo pointed his chubby little finger straight ahead. In the dim light of the corridor, Arthur suddenly appeared. The sickly yellow hallway light cast deep, unreadable shadows across his sharp, severe features. I couldn’t read his expression. I could only feel the violent trembling of Leo’s tiny hands clutching mine. Silently, a wave of intense anxiety washed over me. After all, we had been broken up for years. He had always been raised with strict discipline. He absolutely despised getting involved in messy, chaotic drama like this. Humoring Leo’s little game earlier tonight was already completely out of character. There was no way he would publicly acknowledge being this “son’s” father. … My mind was a chaotic mess. Just as the old couple lunged forward to grab the kid again— A deep, resonant voice echoed from the doorway, carrying an involuntary, undeniable warmth. “Son, come here. “Daddy’s got you.”

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The A-list movie star who happens to be my boyfriend is playing the lead in the film adaptation of my novel. He’s the one who secured the financing, handpicked the crew, and burned through every favor he had to ensure this movie would be his magnum opus. But on the first day of filming, he ignored the entire production team’s protests. He fired the A-list lead actress and replaced her with a total nobody—a girl who had just stepped off a bus from some small town. That night, the new starlet posted a sprawling manifesto on Instagram: “I have no family connections, no luck, and even the author of the original book couldn’t see my potential. Only Chase saw me—shivering and half-drowned in the gutters of this industry—and pulled me out. Thank you for believing in me. And thank you for the canary diamond necklace—the first real piece of jewelry I’ve ever owned.” Chase Montgomery’s public reply was three words long: “You’re worth it.” The internet went into a shipping frenzy. Immediately, the vitriol shifted toward me. “Who does this hack writer think she is? She’s just some shut-in who types in a cramped apartment. What does she know about star power or beauty? No wonder she couldn’t see Tiffany’s potential.” “The book wasn’t even that good. It’s only a hit because Chase is carrying it. This author just got lucky—a blind squirrel finding a nut.” I stared at the screen, feeling a jagged rip open in my chest. Seven years of waiting, of building a life with him, and in one heartbeat, I finally let go. 1 Midnight hit. Chase missed my birthday. Again. Thirty minutes later, the sound of a key turning in the lock echoed through the foyer. My eyes drifted toward the door as he tossed his designer coat onto the rack without a word. When his gaze snagged on the small, untouched cake on the dining table, his brow furrowed with a flicker of irritation. “I was busy today, June. Birthdays happen every year. Missing one isn’t the end of the world.” He pulled out his phone, his thumb tapping the screen with practiced indifference. “I just Venmoed you five thousand. Buy yourself whatever you want.” A bitter sting rose in my throat, my eyes heating up. Always the same line. Always the same price tag on my feelings. Yesterday’s headlines were still burned into my brain: Chase Montgomery Drops Multi-Million Dollar Endorsement to Make Time for Dinner with Tiffany Blaire. If this had been a month ago, I would have screamed. I would have demanded to know why she was worth a multi-million dollar sacrifice while I wasn’t worth a single night off. Now, my voice was just cold. “You’re right. A birthday isn’t a big deal. And neither is this relationship. We’re done.” Chase froze for a half-second, the words seemingly failing to register. “What is that supposed to mean?” “Is this because I forgot a gift? I literally just gave you the money, June.” He let out a sharp, condescending exhale. “Fine. If you want to throw a tantrum, throw it. But don’t expect me to come crawling back this time.” A ghost of a smile touched my lips. When had he ever crawled? Every time we fought over Tiffany, I was the one who smoothed things over. I was the one who apologized for being “insecure.” Not this time. I stood up, picked up the cake, and dumped it into the trash can. I didn’t look back as I walked toward the bedroom. Behind me, I heard him dial a number. His voice was loud, intentionally loud. “Does anyone suspect anything about me and Tiffany? Fine. Put out a statement. Call her my ‘rumored girlfriend.’ We need the buzz for the movie anyway.” “Don’t worry,” he added, his voice dropping into a dismissive mumble. “She won’t make a scene.” The ‘she’ was me. A single tear escaped, hot and trailing down to my lip. It tasted like salt and regret. He used to tell me, “You’re the only girl for me, June. One day, I’m going to stand in front of the whole world and hold your hand so firmly no one will ever doubt it.” Now, he was announcing his love for someone else to the world, and I was just the ghost in his apartment. I pulled out my phone and sent a text to my mother. “That arrangement you mentioned? The one with the family friend? I’m in. When do we start?” 2 The next morning, the sound of my suitcase wheels clicking against the hardwood floor filled the silent apartment. Chase was in the kitchen, a cup of espresso in his hand. He went still, his eyes narrowing at the luggage. “Where are you going?” I didn’t meet his gaze. “To a hotel for a few days.” He studied me, looking for a crack in my resolve, then let out a low, mocking scoff. “June, come on. You’re really doing this? You’re jealous because I’m filming with Tiffany?” “I’ve told you a thousand times, she’s just a co-star. You’re the girlfriend. Stop making up scenarios in your head.” He stood up slowly, reaching out to grab my arm, but I pivoted away. His hand hung in the air, empty, and his face instantly darkened. “You think you’re being tough? If you walk out that door today, don’t you dare think about coming back.” I didn’t answer. I turned the deadbolt, pulled the handle, and walked out without a second glance. A loud crash echoed behind me—the sound of a glass shattering against the floor. I didn’t stop walking. By the time I’d hailed a car, checked into a hotel, and unpacked, it was late afternoon. My phone buzzed. It was a text from the director of the film. Tonight was the wrap party for the first week of shooting, a massive celebration because the buzz was already breaking records. He’d invited me as the author. He was an old friend of my mother’s; I couldn’t say no. As I reached the door of the private lounge at the Soho House, a roar of laughter erupted from inside. “Chase and Tiffany were together back in college! They were each other’s first loves!” My hand froze on the door handle. College? Chase had always told me about a girl from his university days—the one who broke his heart, the one he could never quite get over. That girl was Tiffany Blaire? Chase and I grew up together in a group home. When I was seventeen, my mother—who had been searching for me for a decade—finally found me and brought me back into a world of wealth and privilege. When I reconnected with Chase years later, he was a struggling actor. I didn’t tell him who my mother was. I wanted him to love me, not my inheritance. Inside the room, Tiffany gave a performative pout. “Oh, stop it, you guys! Chase has a girlfriend. What if she hears you and gets the wrong idea?” The room erupted in even louder laughter. “Chase doesn’t have a girlfriend, Tiff! We’ve all seen it for months—his heart is clearly taken.” “I even heard Chase personally demanded Tiffany for the lead role. He wouldn’t take no for an answer!” I stood paralyzed. When my mother had passed my manuscript to the director, he’d loved it instantly. As for Tiffany… she was the polar opposite of how I’d written the protagonist. I’d assumed the director had made a casting choice based on some industry trend. It wasn’t the director. It was Chase. I looked through the crack in the door. He was looking at Tiffany with a soft, indulgent smile. He didn’t deny a word of it. Tiffany’s eyes swept the room and landed right on me. “Oh my gosh, who’s that at the door? For a second, I thought a stalker had broken in. You scared me!” Chase’s brow furrowed when he saw me. He hesitated for two painful seconds before looking back at Tiffany. “Just an old acquaintance. She probably saw me through the window and wanted to say hi.” Tiffany’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk. She raised her voice so the whole room could hear. “Oh! I remember her now! I’ve seen her before.” “That day Chase drove halfway across the city just to get me that specific iced matcha? She was standing under a tree across from the shop, just… staring at us for the longest time.” “Her eyes were red like a rabbit’s. I thought she was going to burst into tears. Why? Are you a fan of Chase or something?” A young assistant with a messy bun piped up, “Wait, I remember too!” “That was the day Tiffany got a little upset because she thought Chase was being followed. Chase later explained it was just some girl he knew from the foster system. Said she was a mess—apparently, she’d been caught trying to sleep with her teachers back in middle school just to get better grades.” Another crew member shook his head, looking at me with pure disgust. “She looks so plain and innocent. Who knew she was such a cliché? No wonder she’s here trying to sink her claws into a star like Chase.” The room went quiet for a few beats, every gaze on me heavy with unshielded contempt. 3 I felt like I was made of glass, ready to shatter. My mind raced back to eighth grade. My homeroom teacher had lured me to his house under the guise of extra tutoring. It was Chase who had sensed something was wrong. He was the one who kicked the door down and pulled me out before anything could happen. But afterward, the rumors spread like wildfire. They said I’d seduced him. They said I was “fast.” I looked at Chase, my heart screaming. He knew. He had seen me shaking, huddled in the corner of that teacher’s living room, unable to breathe. He jerked his gaze away, staring at the floor, unable to meet my eyes. Tiffany walked over to me, her movements feline and graceful. She reached out and took my hand with a sickeningly sweet touch. “Don’t be mad at Chase,” she whispered, her voice loud enough for the people nearby. “I totally misunderstood who you were to him back then, so he had to tell me the truth to calm me down. I didn’t realize people would start gossiping.” “Chase is just like that. He can’t stand to see me upset.” I pulled my hand back, my voice remarkably steady despite the roar in my ears. “My eyes were just irritated that day. I wasn’t crying.” “And as for Chase? We’re just old acquaintances. You don’t need to worry about me.” Chase’s mouth opened, a protest dying on his lips. But Tiffany was faster. She grabbed his arm and pulled him back toward the center of the party. I left immediately. I couldn’t be in that airless room for another second. Fast footsteps echoed behind me. Chase caught up to me in the hallway. When he saw the shimmer in my eyes, a flash of genuine guilt crossed his face. “June, look. I’ve told you—this is all for the brand. If it weren’t for the movie, I would have gone public with us ages ago.” “And about that story… if you hadn’t been standing there staring at us like a ghost, people wouldn’t have asked questions. I had to say something to protect Tiffany’s reputation.” I let out a hollow laugh. He’d forgotten. He’d forgotten that I’d texted him that day, telling him I was nearby and asking if he wanted to grab a coffee. He never replied. When I saw him, he was handing a drink to Tiffany, laughing at something she said. I’d texted him again while standing under that tree. He’d glanced at his phone and typed back: “In a meeting. No time. Go home.” I didn’t want to argue anymore. I started walking. Chase moved to follow me, but his phone chirped. He checked it, and his expression softened instantly. “Tiffany? Don’t worry, I’m coming right back.” He looked at me, hesitating for a heartbeat, then turned and ran back toward the party. The next morning, a headline exploded across the tabloids: “Chase Montgomery’s Secret Girlfriend Exposed—and It’s NOT Tiffany Blaire!” The photo was from years ago—a grainy shot of me and Chase eating at a dive bar when he’d just booked his first commercial. The second headline followed minutes later: “Tiffany Blaire Seen Crying in Her Trailer: ‘I Won’t Stand in the Way of True Love.’” I checked my phone. Over a hundred missed calls from Chase. The second I picked up, his voice slammed into me, raw with rage. “June! Have you lost your mind? Are you so desperate for a title that you’d leak old photos to ruin my career?” “The studio is breathing down my neck, telling me I can’t be seen with Tiffany anymore. Is this what you wanted? Are you happy now?” I gripped the phone, my heart sinking into my stomach. I hung up. I didn’t have the energy to explain that I hadn’t leaked anything. When it came to Tiffany, he never believed me anyway. A moment later, Chase’s official statement hit Twitter. “I have a purely platonic history with Ms. June Porter. I helped her out years ago because I felt sorry for her situation, but lately, her behavior has become obsessive. I am currently and happily pursuing a relationship with Tiffany Blaire. My heart is hers, and hers alone. Please do not harass her for the actions of a confused fan.” The comments section became a bloodbath. “Chase’s loyalty is everything! Leave Tiffany alone!” “June Porter? I know her. She’s the girl who slept with her teacher in middle school. Now she’s trying to social-climb her way onto Chase?” The insults got darker, more graphic. Someone leaked my burner phone number. The threats started pouring in. And then, the sound of heavy footsteps and shouting came from the hotel hallway. “We tracked the GPS! She’s in room 412!”

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To pay for my mute wife’s medical treatments, I had to do the unthinkable: leave my newborn son behind to work as a high-end live-in night nurse for a wealthy family. I had just received a six-month lump sum from my employer, Silas Vance—a man who lived in a world of marble and shadows—and I was rushing home to reunite with my family. But when I stepped into the foyer of the Vance estate to return a forgotten key, I saw Silas on the velvet sofa, his arms wrapped around a woman in a lingering, intimate embrace. Realizing I was intruding, I turned to slip away, but then I heard him whisper her name. “Isabelle, how much longer are we going to keep this up? I almost feel bad for him. I gave him a two-hundred-dollar bonus just now, and he looked like he’d won the damn lottery.” The woman’s laugh was like silk, cold and expensive. “Two hundred? Silas, the toilet paper in our guest bathroom costs more than that.” I froze, my blood turning to ice. I thought I had misheard. My wife’s name was Isabelle. But my Isabelle was mute. She lived in a world of silence and signed prayers. Then, the woman turned her head, a sharp, mocking smile playing on her lips. “Let the game continue. I need to keep my figure, so breastfeeding is out, and you’re useless with a bottle. Little Toby loves the way he preps the formula. He used to be an OB-GYN, remember? I feel better knowing he’s the one raising our son.” “And his own kid?” Silas asked, trailing a finger down her neck. “What if he finds out you’re worth billions? What if he realizes you faked being poor just to see if he’d ‘sacrifice’ himself for you? He left his own flesh and blood to be a nanny for ours. Won’t he snap?” Isabella leaned in, pulling Silas down by his silk tie. Her voice was a low, sultry murmur. “He’s obsessed with me. Even if he knew, he’d stay. He’d probably beg to be your footman just to stay in my orbit. Without the ‘poor girl’ act, how else was I supposed to know if his heart was real?” She paused, her tone turning dismissive. “As for his brat? Please. It was just a byproduct of the IVF process. The kid can survive on rice water for all I care.” I stood in the shadows, my vision blurring into a terrifying shade of crimson. I stared at the distinct, crescent-shaped birthmark on her neck—the same one I had kissed a thousand times in our cramped, dim apartment. Isabella. If you aren’t mute, then I don’t owe you a damn thing. I stepped out of the house, my hands shaking as I pulled my phone from my pocket. I dialed a number I hadn’t called in three years—the number of the billionaire father I had disowned for her. “Dad,” I said, my voice cracking but hardening with every word. “I’m done playing the ‘struggling commoner’ game. Come get me. I want to go home.” 1 I don’t remember the drive back to our apartment. By the time I regained my senses, I was drenched in a cold sweat. A faint, pathetic whimper—like a dying kitten—echoed from the bedroom, jolting me into reality. “Jamie!” I screamed, lunging into the room. My son was in his crib. He was nearly six months old, but he looked as frail and skeletal as the day he was born. On the nightstand sat a bowl of crusty, dried-out rice starch. Isabella’s words sliced through my mind again. The kid can survive on rice water. She didn’t just neglect him. She was starving him. I realized then that she had only agreed to the IVF because she wanted Silas’s child. My son, Jamie, was an accident—a “byproduct.” She had carried twins, but in my desperation to protect her “fragile” health, I never questioned why she seemed so exhausted. I had spent her entire pregnancy scavenging for extra shifts, even picking through recycling bins at night just to buy her prenatal vitamins, while she secretly retreated to her mansion. Silas’s child couldn’t go an hour without a bottle before I was summoned. I was never allowed to go home. Every cent I earned went straight into Isabella’s account, while I ate Silas’s leftovers to save money for her “surgeries.” She had promised me she would take care of our boy. Jamie’s cries were getting weaker. I scooped his tiny, feverish body into my arms and sprinted for the hospital. It was well past midnight by the time the doctors stabilized him. I looked at my phone. Three hours ago, in a panic, I had texted Isabella. No response. I turned the corner of the hallway and froze. A familiar silhouette stood by the nurse’s station. Isabella was cradling Silas’s baby, her face tight with anxiety as Silas rubbed her back. “He coughed twice, Doctor,” she was saying, her voice clear and frantic. “Are you absolutely sure he’s okay?” The doctor sighed. “Ma’am, we’ve run every test twice tonight. Your son is perfectly healthy. You can go home.” I stood paralyzed, still struggling to reconcile the woman who signed “I love you” with this polished, articulate stranger. My phone chirped. A text. I watched as they disappeared into the elevator before I looked down. It was from her. Sorry, honey. My boss had an emergency and needed a driver. I might be late getting back. I let out a jagged, hysterical laugh. How had I been so blind? She “drove” for a wealthy employer, yet she arrived in a custom-tailored coat. She told me her designer clothes were “hand-me-downs” from her boss. I had believed every single lie. By the way, is Jamie okay? another text popped up. She finally remembered she had a son. Silas’s baby coughed twice, and she demanded a full medical workup. Our son had a 104-degree fever, and she had ignored my texts for three hours. I scrolled up through our chat history. It was a graveyard of my one-sided devotion. Long paragraphs of me describing Jamie’s milestones, met with her cold, one-word replies. I remembered Silas bragging about his “clingy” wife, how she tracked his GPS and texted him every hour. I thought Isabella was just “reserved.” She wasn’t reserved; she just didn’t give a damn about me. She had spent three years pretending to be mute just so she wouldn’t have to bother talking to me. I wiped the chat history clean, my thumb hovering over Silas’s Instagram. He had just posted a story. 2 The photo showed a woman’s profile as she rocked a baby. In her hand was a gold-rimmed crystal bottle—a limited edition piece worth thirty thousand dollars. Silas had once told me his wife bought a whole warehouse of them. One bottle was enough to buy Jamie’s formula for a year. But to Isabella, Jamie wasn’t even worth the cheap stuff from the grocery store. She had played me for a fool, turning me into a wet nurse for her lover’s child while my own son withered away. I started to laugh, hot tears stinging my eyes. My phone buzzed again. Sir, the private jet will be ready in three days to collect you and the young master. Attached was a dossier on the woman I thought I knew. Isabella Sterling. CEO of Sterling Global. The “Iron Lady” of the Chicago tech scene. Net worth: Twelve billion dollars. I scrolled down to the “Spouse” section. Silas Vance. My hands shook so violently I nearly dropped the phone. I went home and dug through the safe where I kept our “marriage certificate.” I ran my finger over the seal. There was no raised stamp. It was a fake. All of it. I sat in the dark until dawn, when I heard the key turn in the lock. Isabella walked in. She saw me sitting there and froze for a split second before rushing over, her face a mask of practiced concern. She started signing frantically. [Honey, what’s wrong?] I looked up at her, my eyes bloodshot. A thick, cloying scent hit me—the same woodsy cologne Silas wore. I used to think it was a coincidence. I didn’t realize that every night, while I was in the nursery next door, my wife was in my employer’s bed. She kept signing, her expression “pleading.” [Is it the baby? I’m so sorry! I’m such a burden to you. I crashed the boss’s car today and they docked my pay again.] She hung her head in “shame.” It was her favorite move. Every time she “lost” money, I would work an extra shift to make up for it. I would hold her and tell her everything would be okay. Now, I just watched her. Silent. When I didn’t give her the usual comfort, a flicker of genuine confusion crossed her eyes. She lunged forward to hug me, then pulled back, signing again. [What is it, Nathaniel?] My eyes settled on a faint red mark on her collarbone. A hickey. I reached out, my fingers brushing it. She grabbed my hand, “explaining” quickly with her fingers. [It’s… a mosquito bite. The boss’s garage is full of them.] I pulled my hand away. “The baby had a fever. He’s in the hospital under observation.” Her face didn’t twitch. Not a single spark of maternal fear. Just a shallow mask of guilt. “I’m such a failure,” she signed. [I can’t even speak, I can only drive… I can’t even take care of our son.] Usually, this would make me feel like the failure for not providing more. Because she “lost her voice” for me. 3 Three years ago, I was staying in a luxury hotel in Denver when a fire broke out. Isabella, a stranger in the room next door, had supposedly dragged me out of the flames. I walked away with minor burns; she allegedly suffered severe smoke inhalation that destroyed her vocal cords. I was so consumed by guilt that I walked away from my family’s fortune, canceled my plans to join my father’s firm, and spent six months nursing her back to health. When she “realized” she would never speak again, she wrote a note: [If you feel like you owe me, why not marry me?] I was a fool. I thought it was a romance. She brought me to this dilapidated apartment and signed: [I have nothing. If you don’t want to suffer with me, you can leave.] I stayed. I worked five jobs. I slept four hours a night to save for her “surgery.” My surgeon’s hands became calloused from scrubbing dishes. My skin turned dark from construction work. I even have a twelve-inch scar on my leg from a delivery accident that left me with a permanent limp because I couldn’t afford to take time off for physical therapy. I did it all for her. “I have enough for the surgery now,” I said, my voice flat. “I quit the job at the Vance’s. I’ll be home to feed the baby myself.” Isabella blinked, stunned. She pushed me toward the bed and hurried into the bathroom, claiming she needed a shower. Five minutes later, my phone rang. “Mr. Thorne? This is the clinic. We have an update on your wife’s vocal cord procedure. The estimate has increased from thirty thousand to eighty thousand. We have a limited surgical window. If we don’t proceed this week, the damage may be permanent.” Perfect timing. Isabella stepped out of the bathroom, “overhearing” the call. She looked at me with tearful eyes, signing: [Forget it, honey. Let’s not do the surgery. It’s too much.] I looked deep into her eyes—eyes that were currently calculating exactly how much more she could squeeze out of me. “I’ll find the money,” I said. The tension in her shoulders vanished instantly. She turned away and began typing a text. I recognized the contact photo: Silas. She was smiling—a real, genuine smile I had never seen directed at me. Later that night, as I drifted into a fitful sleep, I felt her hands on me. But as she moved to pull back my sweatpants, she stopped. She stared at the jagged, ugly scar on my leg—the price I paid for her “rent.” In the dim light, I saw the look on her face. It wasn’t pity. It was disgust. She pulled away, signing: [I need to use the bathroom.] I waited a moment, then stood up. I followed her quietly. She wasn’t in the bathroom. She was in the storage room, staring at a photo of Silas on her phone, her breathing heavy, her body moving in a way she never moved for me. She whispered his name. I felt a surge of bile in my throat. I bolted for the bathroom and gagged. Isabella heard me. She rushed to the door, “concerned” again. [Honey? Are you okay?] I shoved her away. The rage was boiling over, the truth sitting on the tip of my tongue, ready to shatter her world— Then her phone rang.

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My boyfriend’s “bro” snipped the strap of my swimsuit and gave a smug smile. “It’s just a game. You won’t get mad, right, Chloe?” My boyfriend slung his arm around her and said dismissively: “Mad? Her? I just have to crook my finger and she’ll come crawling right back to me.” He was right. Ever since my succubus nature awakened, I was always… so uncomfortable. Amidst the roaring laughter of the crowd, I bent forward, clutching my chest, and suddenly saw a series of floating text—a bullet screen: [Here we go again with the cliché plot. The female lead gets emotionally and physically abused by the scumbag and his mistress, gets her heart broken, and finally leaves. Then the scumbag has an epiphany, grovels to win her back, and they live happily ever after?] [I swear, when will these hack authors stop writing this garbage? Give me my money back!] [Exactly! Is the female lead blind? Can’t she just look at the ‘Ascetic’ guy sitting right next to her? Why do you think he always wears prayer beads and acts like an untouchable saint? It’s because he has a serious addiction he’s desperately suppressing! He has an entire basement full of toys. He’s cold on the outside but completely unhinged! THAT’S what we premium members want to see!] I froze. Quietly, I sidged over to the most aloof, untouchable ascetic in the circle. Sensing his intense, overwhelming life force, I blushed, bit my lip, and asked in a tiny voice: “Hi. Can I kiss you?” 01 A dead silence fell over the entire room. “Chloe, what kind of joke is this? Get over here right now!” My boyfriend, Liam, instantly lost his composure, scolding me furiously. At the same time, he offered an apologetic smile to Julian. “She’s just throwing a tantrum. Please don’t lower yourself to her level, Mr. Sterling.” Julian wasn’t wearing a swimsuit. His white dress shirt was buttoned all the way up to his collar. He wore a string of prayer beads around his wrist, his expression was perfectly serene, and a faint scent of sandalwood lingered around him. He was someone they could never reach in their daily lives, and certainly someone they couldn’t afford to offend. He lifted his eyes slightly, shooting me a brief, almost imperceptible glance. His eyes were like clear, translucent glass. My heart started pounding wildly. Could those floating comments be lying to me? This was a matter of life and death for my livelihood. Not long ago, my true nature as a succubus had awakened. I heard that a succubus’s first heat cycle was exceptionally agonizing. I had to find prey to relieve the overwhelming desire. As the heat cycle drew closer, I was finding it harder and harder to control myself. The dark, pulsing heat rising within me made me feel constantly feverish and terribly uncomfortable… I tagged along with Liam to this party precisely because I intended to use him to get through my heat cycle. He was decent-looking, had a good height—I figured he wouldn’t be too disappointing in other areas, right? But before I could even test the goods, his “bro,” Sarah, intercepted him. They were just playing Truth or Dare. Sarah was sitting on Liam’s lap, feeding him a blueberry mouth-to-mouth. They kissed until a string of saliva connected them, making everyone scream with excitement. Amidst the cheering, Sarah wrapped her arms around Liam’s neck and winked at me smugly. “Liam was just helping me out. We’re bros, we’ve always messed around like this. You don’t mind, right, Chloe?” I bit my lip, my eyelashes fluttering. I put on a perfect display of someone deeply hurt and broken, yet trying to endure it with hidden devotion. This is one of the classic techniques we succubi use to lure our prey. The highest-tier hunters always appear as prey themselves. Once a succubus awakens, they subconsciously radiate an intoxicating, seductive charm. My pitiful, vulnerable appearance instantly drew the heated gazes of the men around us. Sarah gritted her teeth in hatred. Under the guise of a game, she had snipped the strap of my swimsuit. My pure white swimsuit was accented with pink bows, giving off an innocent, girlish vibe. It perfectly highlighted my figure, making me look simultaneously pure and incredibly alluring. With the bikini top slipping, exposing a large expanse of pale skin and a deep cleavage… I was dangerously close to a complete wardrobe malfunction. I let out a small gasp, wrapping my arms tightly around the thin fabric over my chest, looking like I was about to burst into tears. Like a fragile, helpless little bunny, which only made the malicious, predatory stares around me even hotter. In the next round of the game, unsurprisingly, I lost. My Dare: [French kiss a member of the opposite sex for ten minutes.] Amidst a chorus of malicious, mocking laughter, Liam, still holding Sarah in his lap, casually hooked a finger at me, looking slightly annoyed. “I really don’t know what to do with you. Come here, Chloe.” The crowd cheered him on: “Liam’s got his girl completely trained! Such a beautiful girlfriend, and she’s so obedient.” “Liam’s living the dream, a girl in each arm!” I felt a wave of disgust. That mouth was literally just kissed by Sarah. And now he expects me to kiss it? Nobody likes eating someone else’s leftovers. Just as I was debating what to do, I saw those floating comments. Without a second thought, I sat down right next to the legendary, untouchable ascetic, Julian. He felt cool to the touch, yet he radiated an incredibly rich, intoxicating life force. He smelled so good… I swallowed hard. My entire body felt like it had been set on fire. I was so thirsty. So hot… I absolutely refused to touch Liam’s leftovers now. The man next to me was completely covered, wearing a long-sleeved shirt and trousers. Broad shoulders, a narrow waist, long legs… yet he sat as stiffly and virtuously as a monk. It made you want to… rip open his pristine white shirt, bite down on his elegant neck, pin his vein-lined hands to the bed, and utterly destroy all of his aloof, untouchable dignity! Drag him down from his high-and-mighty pedestal and devour him entirely… It was incredibly thrilling! My eyes lit up. To get a taste of this absolute delicacy, I pulled out all the stops. I tightened my arms around my chest, making my curves look even more pronounced. My soft body accidentally-on-purpose brushed against his arm, then I quickly and shyly pulled away. Looking up at him from the absolute perfect angle, I blinked my watery, doe eyes. With blushing cheeks, I bit my lip and asked in a tiny voice: “Hi. Can I kiss you?” He slowly lowered his eyes, remaining silent. Not one to give up easily, I prepared to try again. But Liam suddenly rushed over, grabbing my arm, trying to yank me away from Julian. “I apologize, Mr. Sterling. She doesn’t know any better. She ruined your mood.” I mentally cursed him for ruining my mood. I let out a fake, frightened squeak. As I yanked my arm free, I conveniently delivered a resounding slap across Liam’s face. Taking advantage of the momentum, I threw myself directly into Julian’s arms. During the struggle, the thin fabric of my swimsuit drifted gracefully to the floor. My soft curves pressed tightly against Julian’s chest. As I tackled him onto the sofa, I made sure to give his chest a good squeeze. So firm. So much muscle… Julian’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He let out a suppressed, muffled groan. That sound made my entire body melt. I collapsed completely against him. I was starving for it. I was so hungry, and he was so incredibly tempting… 02 If the protagonist of this steamy, scandalous scene were anyone else, the screams from the crowd would have capsized the boat. But this was Julian. Everyone was dead silent. No one dared to even breathe. Only the bullet screen was going absolutely insane: [Holy shit?! What is the female lead doing??? Is she trying to use the aloof ascetic to make the male lead jealous? Getting back at him for flirting with his ‘bro’ right in front of her?] [Since when do abused female leads have these kinds of moves? She’s supposed to be an innocent little bunny! Her swimsuit got cut, she must feel helpless, so she went to the ascetic second male lead because she thinks he’s cold and celibate and won’t do anything to her!] [Agreed with above. The male lead’s scummy friends were looking at her like they wanted to eat her. The ascetic second male lead is the only decent guy here. He’s much safer.] [Safer? Hahahaha, this is literally walking right into the wolf’s den! If she actually manages to break his seal, I don’t even want to imagine what happens next… hehehe…] [The ascetic second male lead is totally faking it! He’s been suppressing it for ages! He acts all cold and detached on the outside, but if we didn’t already know he only came to this party for the female lead, he might have actually fooled us!] [LMAO, I wonder who it is that chants sutras, meditates, and plays with prayer beads all day, but gets pushed into complete villainy by the intense tension between the male and female leads later on? The guy literally has a solid gold birdcage and ankle chains prepped in secret~] [Why doesn’t the female lead just consider the second male lead, boohoo… Even though his face is cold, he’s hot everywhere else! Even though his words are hard, he’s harder everywhere else!] [The commenter above needs to put some pants on. This is a comment section, not a no man’s land.] I stared blankly at the comments, swallowing hard. I peeked down at the man I was pinning to the sofa. A jaw-droppingly gorgeous face that could command any room, pale skin, clear, shallow eyes. He exuded an otherworldly, untouched aura of purity. He actually liked someone? And that someone was… me? Bullet screen, you better not be lying to me. Our eyes met. Julian snapped back to reality as if he’d been electrocuted, instinctively trying to push me away. I braced myself, let out a soft whimper, and clung to him tightly. I pressed myself firmly against his chest, trembling slightly. With a tearful, pleading voice, I begged: “Please… Mr. Sterling, don’t… don’t look at me…” Julian’s hands froze instantly. A hazy mist clouded his clear eyes. A brilliant flush of red rapidly bloomed across his pale cheeks, spreading all the way to the tips of his ears, completely exploding. Oh my. I keenly sensed a very specific change pressing against me. I purposefully, accidentally rubbed against it. Julian’s breath hitched. Even his abs locked tight. The size seems very impressive. I couldn’t be more satisfied! But on the outside, I widened my doe eyes in feigned terror, biting my lip in distress: “M-Mr. Sterling… how could you…” Julian’s eyes darkened. He reached out, grabbed a towel from nearby, and draped it over my shoulders. Even after he propped himself up, I was still sitting securely in his lap. Mm, excellent core strength. His lower body strength… is also fantastic. Clearly, the bullet screen thought so too: [He just effortlessly lifted her up with him! That core strength, those hips! If he held her up while standing… I can’t even imagine how amazing that would feel!] [Stop, he’s probably already dying of pleasure! The female lead is so soft, so pale, so curvy, and they’re pressed skin-to-skin! He’s definitely regretting wearing a shirt today!] [A hundred years from now, Julian’s epitaph will read: “My greatest regret in life was wearing a white dress shirt to a swimsuit party.”] Despite being incredibly tense and having burning red ears, the look Julian gave me was still freezing cold. Like he was looking at some filthy creature that had tainted him. If it weren’t for those comments and the very enthusiastic response from ‘Little Julian’… I really wouldn’t have dared to get this close to him. Heh. What a faker. I didn’t move away. Instead, I wrapped my arms around his neck. I tilted my head up, pressed my lips against his cherry-blossom pink ones, and gave him a soft kiss. The man’s heartbeat, pressed flush against me, instantly became deafeningly loud. Under the towel, the hand gripping my waist tightened abruptly. With a force that felt like he was trying to meld me into his own body… 03 “Chloe! What the hell are you doing?! Let go of Mr. Sterling right now!” Liam finally let out a shrill, hysterical scream. He wanted to pull me away, but he was too intimidated by Julian’s status. He just paced around anxiously. I pulled away with agonizing reluctance, explaining innocently: “But… the rules of the game say I have to kiss for ten minutes. And it has to be a French kiss…” The room was dead silent. No one dared to speak. They wanted to play this vulgar game to embarrass and humiliate me. But who would dare pull that kind of stunt on Julian Sterling? I blinked my watery doe eyes, my cheeks flushed, and politely asked in a whisper: “Mr. Sterling, can I kiss you?” I let out the tip of my bright red tongue. “A kiss… right here.” Julian’s eyes went dark. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his jaw clenched almost imperceptibly. Sitting in his lap, I intentionally rubbed against him, acting spoiled. His breathing grew heavy, and his hands locked onto my waist in a death grip. He forced a single sound from his throat: “Mm.” Having received permission, I carefully kissed him. Julian’s reaction was inexperienced and passive. The muffled groan he couldn’t suppress was deep, raspy, and incredibly magnetic. So seductive… Unable to contain my excitement, I audaciously pried his lips open. While tangling my tongue with his, I greedily feasted on his abundant life force. It felt so good. I wanted so much more… An unspeakable heat wave surged from the top of my head, spreading downward. Ugh… I can barely hide my ears and tail anymore… I nuzzled against Julian’s lips, offering a soft, seductive temptation: “Mr. Sterling… I really want to eat you whole…” As if layers of chains had suddenly snapped, the wild beast imprisoned for so long finally saw the light of day. Julian’s gaze sharpened, and he suddenly, ferociously kissed me back… [Wait a minute, this characterization seems off for the female lead, right? What happened to the innocent little bunny? Why is she clinging to the ascetic second male lead and refusing to let go?] [I thought it was weird earlier! Since when does the abused female lead take the initiative with another man? Aren’t they usually supposed to preserve their purity for the scumbag male lead?] [Pfft! Preserve her purity for a cheating scumbag? What, does she need to build a chastity monument for him? Wearing mourning clothes would be more appropriate!] [The female lead is impure, so disgusting! I’m gonna throw up! The male lead is right there and she’s cheating with the second male lead! That’s so shameless!] [LMAO, this game was exactly what the scumbag and his friends wanted to play, wasn’t it? Is anyone in this room actually ‘pure’? Why are you only picking on the female lead? Just admit you hate women!] [Seconded! Honestly, the most ‘pure’ people in this room are probably the ascetic second male lead and the female lead! This plot development is amazing! More, more, don’t stop!] Ten minutes was barely enough for an appetizer. The deep, tangled kiss finally ended. Julian’s clear eyes were completely glazed over, his lips stained a deep red, his face full of an unsatisfied, heavy lust. The aloof ascetic had been entirely dragged down from his pedestal. Thankfully, I was the only one who could see it. I was incredibly excited. I couldn’t help but pat his flushed cheek: “Mr. Sterling, the ten minutes are up~” 04 Julian retreated to his room early, and no one dared to stop him. Liam was boiling with rage, but he didn’t dare explode. He could only stand there while his ‘bros’ exchanged knowing glances, silently mocking him for being cuckolded right in front of them. He glared at me viciously, wanting to lash out. I ignored him, wrapped the towel around myself, and went back to my room to change. While I was rummaging through my things, Sarah walked in unannounced. “Chloe, I really underestimated you. Liam actually said you were innocent. Looks like you know exactly what you’re doing!” Her contemptuous tone was dripping with hostility. “I, Sarah, despise fake, pretentious green tea bitches like you the most! Acting all weak and pitiful, being so incredibly fake—isn’t it all just to seduce men?” Now that I’d had a taste of the absolute best, I had completely lost interest in Liam. I didn’t even have the energy to pretend anymore. “Mhm, you’re absolutely right. You’re so amazing, Sarah. Being a ‘tomboy’ means you get to French kiss your ‘bro’. Unlike me, who actually has to pretend to be weak and pitiful.” Sarah choked, completely caught off guard. Her face turned an ugly shade of red. “What do you mean by that?!” I ignored her. “Chloe, you better explain yourself!” She charged forward and snatched my bag. “Believe it or not, I’ll throw your bag into the ocean so you have absolutely nothing to wear!” I blinked innocently. “Wow, you’re so fierce and manly! You’re practically radiating masculine energy! I’m so scared~” Unable to swallow her anger, Sarah actually threw my bag straight out the window into the ocean. She smugly dropped a threat: “Chloe, crossing me won’t do you any good! Not a single girl on this boat will lend you clothes. Let’s see what you do now!” I shrugged carelessly. “You’re so mean, Sarah! What am I supposed to do now? I guess I’ll just have to go ask the boys to lend me some clothes~ I’m sure they’d be more than happy to help me out, right?” Sarah never expected me to answer with such blatant shamelessness. She cursed loudly: “Chloe! You… you despicable, shameless fox demon!” What a coincidence. My true succubus form was literally a red fox. I let out a burst of laughter. I patted Sarah on the shoulder and said earnestly: “Sarah, you’re the only one who treats a piece of garbage like Liam as a prize. ‘Bros’? Don’t make me laugh. You know exactly what your intentions are.” “Why fight over a two-legged man? Since you like him so much, you can have that trash.” “As for me, I’m off to enjoy a real delicacy~!” 05 I messed up my hair on purpose and rubbed a few red marks onto my neck and shoulders. Wrapped tightly in the towel, I knocked on Julian’s door. Julian had already reverted to his meticulously neat, aloof persona. It was as if nothing had happened earlier. I hunched my shoulders and whispered pitifully: “Mr. Sterling… can I come in?” Julian frowned: “Miss Vance, this is inappropriate.” Dead man, still putting on an act. I wonder who it was just a few minutes ago, standing at attention the second I hugged him, gripping my waist like a vice the second I kissed him. My eyes instantly turned red, and I sobbed: “I’m sorry, I know I’m causing trouble for you, but I… I really don’t know who else to turn to…” “They threw my bag into the ocean… and those guys are, are…” “I’m too scared to go to them, so I came to find you…” Crystal-clear tears rolled down my eyelashes. I bit my lip and clutched the towel tightly to cover my chest. Messy hair, ambiguous red marks, humiliating tears, a broken me. Perfect! Not far away, the party had resumed its rowdiness. I heard voices approaching, joking loudly: “Liam’s little girlfriend is really something else. I wonder if he’s blind, still messing around with Sarah. ‘Bros,’ yeah right!” “What girlfriend? He already said he was just playing around. But that body, and her swimsuit was cut… I’m literally aching right now. If Liam is just going to leave a stunner like that alone, he should let me have a turn!” “I wonder where that cut swimsuit went. I wanted to use it later…” I threw myself into Julian’s arms in terror, shivering and pleading pitifully: “Mr. Sterling, please help me, I’m begging you, please…” Julian caught me, half-resisting, half-accepting. Well, the first time is awkward, the second time is easy. The veins on his arms bulged, as if he were trying desperately to restrain something. “Miss Vance, I am a man too.” I looked up at him innocently: “Huh?” “You can’t just casually walk into a man’s room.” The dimly lit room stretched endlessly behind him, like an abyss waiting to devour someone. I traced small circles on his chest with my finger, speaking in an exaggeratedly sweet, baby voice: “Is that so? Why is that?” Julian abruptly grabbed my wandering hand. His fingers were long and strong. The teasing voices in the hallway were getting closer. Julian’s hoarse voice carried a hint of gritted teeth. “Chloe, if you dare to come in, don’t you dare regret it!” The towel draped over me was roughly yanked away, and I was dragged into the room. 06 The bullet screen had been exploding non-stop since earlier: [!!! Can someone please tell me what kind of plot development this is??? Did we suddenly change channels from a PG rating to an R rating? This is way too exciting!] [Ahhhh, the female lead is definitely doing this on purpose, right? Who said she was an innocent little bunny? Her entire character concept just shattered! How is the male lead supposed to abuse her physically and mentally, and then go through a groveling redemption arc for a happy ending now?] [Why the hell would we want a happy ending with the scumbag? I think the ascetic second male lead absolutely destroys the male lead! The way the female lead is seducing him is perfect! Don’t stop!] [So her innocent, pure act was all fake? The way she verbally destroyed the second female lead was so sarcastic and amazing! I want her to teach a masterclass, hahaha! This is so much better than that garbage abuse plot!] [This pairing—the aloof ascetic with a secret addiction X the pure-but-seductive succubus—is AMAZING!] [So the next part is exactly what I think it is, right?! Hurry, hurry! My premium member’s pants just magically flew away!] [Yes, sisters, yes!] The lights in the room were off. I was thrown onto the bed. Julian’s white dress shirt was tossed over my head, blocking my vision. The elegant scent of sandalwood lingering on the collar was intoxicating. I pulled the shirt away, excitedly preparing for my feast. Then I heard him say: “Put this on first. I’ll buy you new clothes once we dock.” The bullet screen was just as incredulous as I was: [??? Second male lead, are you serious??? Are you actually trying to achieve enlightenment or something???] [I thought the long-suffering, innocent female leads in these angst novels had the most endurance. But you! My ascetic second male lead! You are the true Ninja Turtle!] [Ascetic bro, you really are a true monk. Maybe you should take a look at the massive tent in your pants before you speak?] [Ascetic second male lead, stop acting! Stop acting! I’m literally begging you! I’m holding it in so hard I’m about to explode!] [I am Buddha. Ascetic second male lead, I hereby grant you permission to return to secular life. O ascetic with the hidden power of addiction, reveal your true strength before the female lead. I, the Buddha who made a pact with you, command you: SEAL RELEASE!] I accidentally let out a laugh at the comments. Julian’s expression instantly turned deadly serious. His clear eyes were exceptionally cold and emotionless: “Is this funny to you?” I hugged his shirt and asked tentatively: “Mr. Sterling, are you angry?” Julian pressed his lips together and didn’t speak. Using the dim light, I shamelessly admired his body. Cold, pale skin, elegant collarbones, and on his full pecs… Mm, a sweet shade of pink. Solid abs, a tight waist, and an alluring V-line trailing down into… I stared blankly. I didn’t want to be human anymore. I pitched my voice up again, dragging out the syllables in a teasing question: “So, is baby angrier up here, or angrier down there?” 07 Julian had definitely never been teased like this before. He instantly turned bright red. The flush spread from his ears all the way down the back of his neck. He scolded me strictly: “Miss Vance, you are Liam’s girlfriend. Please have some self-respect!” If it weren’t for those comments, I probably would have genuinely been scared by his icy reprimand. I looked at him with sparkling eyes, entirely unbothered: “He just did that with another girl and let them bully me. He’s not my boyfriend anymore.” Julian’s face was like a sheet of ice. “Even so, I am not a man you can just fool around with, Miss Vance.” “If you’re just looking for a way to salvage your relationship or cure your loneliness through these methods, go find someone else.” He turned and walked into the bathroom. Soon, the sound of running water echoed. I bit my lip, grinding my teeth in frustration. I slowly put on his shirt. It enveloped me entirely in his sandalwood scent. It felt exactly like being held tightly in his arms. His scent was all over me… The heat wave I had suppressed for so long surged back with a vengeance. It spread like wildfire, completely out of control. The air itself felt hot, damp, and heavy. “Mm…” I let out an involuntary moan, hugging a pillow in unbearable heat. The elegant sandalwood scent seemed to seep directly into my body. Ugh… I really can’t take it anymore… Perhaps it was Julian’s stimulation. My heat cycle had officially begun. But he was still acting so freezing cold. What was I supposed to do? Did he really have no interest in me? Suddenly, the bullet screen exploded again: [HOLY SHIT! Male lead, what are you doing??? Using the sound of the shower to aggressively reward yourself is one thing, but why is the female lead’s bow swimsuit in there with you?!!! Even though the swimsuit is ruined, are you trying to completely destroy the bow right now???] [Good lord, I was wondering where the female lead’s swimsuit went. So you had it the whole time! You’ve got fast hands, kid! (in more ways than one)] [He was just acting like an untouchable saint who saw through the illusions of the mortal world, serious and rigid like a monk cultivating his spirit… but behind closed doors, you’re really playing hard, aren’t you, Ascetic Bro?!] [The female lead was so seductive just now! ‘Where are you angrier’ had me dying laughing. She’s too good at this! Hahaha] [But the ascetic bro is still acting all high and mighty. What if the female lead gives up? Female lead, please don’t give up on the second male lead, boohoo! I’m still waiting to see you guys go at it seven times in one night! The ascetic second male lead can definitely handle it, I promise!] I narrowed my eyes and licked my lips. Heh. Dog. He really knows how to act. Fine. I guess I’ll play with you one last time. 08 Julian came out of the shower. I had already put on his white dress shirt and buttoned it all the way to the top. His shirt was oversized. On me, it slipped down, exposing a large swath of my pale shoulder and neck. It was the absolute classic “boyfriend shirt” look. The white fabric was slightly sheer, and I wasn’t wearing anything underneath. As I breathed, the curves of my body were tantalizingly visible. Julian immediately looked away, refusing to meet my eyes. I got out of bed and walked toward the door. “Mr. Sterling, thank you for taking me in. I’m sorry for being a burden.” I reached for the doorknob, but Julian’s footsteps faltered. He quickly stepped behind me, his voice tight with hidden frustration: “Looking like that, where exactly do you think you’re going?” I offered a tragic, faint smile. “Mr. Sterling, you’re right. I am exactly the kind of lonely, desperate woman you said I was.” “Since you don’t like me at all, I’ll listen to you. I’ll go find someone else like a good girl. I won’t bother you ever again…” SLAM! Julian slammed his hand against the door, violently shutting the sliver I had managed to open. His breathing was incredibly close. His large, imposing frame completely engulfed me in his shadow. His voice was hoarse, every word seemingly ground out through clenched teeth: “Chloe, you are not leaving.” “You are not allowed to find anyone else.” I whimpered, acting terribly wronged: “Mr. Sterling, you can’t do this.” “You clearly don’t want me. Why are you trying to trap me so aggressively?” Julian went silent. But the chest pressed firmly against my back was heaving violently. I couldn’t stop a triumphant smirk from forming on my lips, but I said: “…I’m in so much pain. I know you don’t want me, but someone out there will…” “Mr. Sterling, please let me go…” “No!” Julian’s monk-like composure was crumbling rapidly. It was time to add the final, lethal dose of fuel to the fire. A fluffy, fiery-red fox tail suddenly slipped out from beneath the hem of the shirt, wrapping seductively around Julian’s leg. It was a vibrant, almost vulgar shade of red. But it made the man behind me stop breathing entirely. I panicked, desperately pulling at the hem of the shirt, trying frantically to hide the tail. But my arms and the tight fabric only served to further accentuate my chest. The thin material couldn’t hide anything at all… I cried and begged: “Mr. Sterling, don’t look at me, please…” “Please let me go. If you drag this out any longer, I really won’t be able to take it…” Julian’s ascetic resolve shattered into a million pieces. Veins popped on his powerful arms as he wrapped them around my waist, violently yanking me back flush against his chest. He buried his face in the crook of my neck. His voice was incredibly quiet and muffled: “Not. Letting. Go.” “You’re not allowed to leave. You’re not allowed to find anyone else!” “You can only come to me. It can only be me…” The untouchable flower on the high peak had finally crashed completely into the mud. I was so excited my ears popped out too. This was way too thrilling! The bullet screen was losing its collective mind: [Oh my god, what kind of supernatural fantasy is this?! The ascetic monk x the fox demon female lead! This is top-tier! If you knew who I shipped, you’d know how lucky I feel right now~] [? So the innocent little bunny female lead is actually a red fox succubus? No wonder! This pure-yet-seductive energy has completely hooked him! She’s got him entirely under her control!] [Hiss, pant… hurry up and get to the good part! My premium member tires are literally sparking!!!] I couldn’t wait any longer either. I was starving. I melted into Julian’s arms, taking control and hugging him back. Just as I was about to kiss him, I saw that the corners of his eyes were flushed red, his gaze shattered and vulnerable. “Mr. Sterling?” He looked at me with an expression of pure, tragic heartbreak. He looked like he was about to shatter into pieces. “Chloe, I am not a tool for you to use to make someone else jealous.” “And I am definitely not someone else’s replacement.” “You are not allowed to treat me like that.” [Oh my god! Why didn’t anyone tell me that once the ascetic monk breaks his vows, he evolves into an obsessive, devoted, fragile little wife?! Who’s going crazy? I’M GOING CRAZY!!!] [I’ve learned so much today. So when the untouchable saint is dragged off his pedestal, he turns into a pathetic, wet puppy terrified of being played with and abandoned? THIS is the exact flavor I wanted! So incredibly satisfying!] [The Female Lead: A fake, innocent little flower. But you, my second male lead! YOU are the true, innocent little flower!] [Help, why is the screen black?! Are you bullying me because I haven’t paid for a premium membership?! I’m going to buy one right now, boohoo! Second male lead, please don’t finish too fast!!!] [Meanwhile, a prestigious annual premium member casually walks by, proudly displaying their golden badge.]

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391679”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After six years in the shadows, my CEO girlfriend, Veronica, finally agreed to let me meet her parents. But then she stayed out all night. The next morning, she strolled into the office, bold as brass, with a love bite on her neck and her first love, Spencer, at her side. They chatted as if no one else existed, completely ignoring me, her actual boyfriend. A colleague whispered, “Isn’t that the new guy? Started a few days ago, right? Wow, he moves fast. Already latched onto the boss. Just another pretty boy looking for a sugar mama.” Before I could say a word, Veronica’s voice cut through the office. “Spencer is a top graduate I hired myself. If you lack his talent, don’t resort to petty jealousy. I won’t have anyone speaking ill of him!” The vice president, one of the few who knew about us, sidled up to me. “Who’s this guy? I thought you were the boss’s boyfriend.” A bitter smirk touched my lips. “Not for much longer.” The VP stared, confused, but Veronica was already marching toward me. “Your performance has been slipping lately,” she announced, her voice cold. “I’m putting you on the back burner for now. Spencer will take over your projects. You will assist him.” The office went silent. I had been by Veronica’s side since the company was just a dream. I was, without a doubt, the driving force behind our success. My performance had never been anything but stellar. Yet here she was, demoting me for no reason. And for what? To play second fiddle to a rookie who’d been here less than a week. I stared back at her, my face a mask of ice. My silence seemed to irritate her. Her brow furrowed. “Did you not hear me?” A smug look flickered in Spencer’s eyes. He smiled, a saccharine, condescending expression. “Finn has been with you since the beginning, Veronica. He probably has a bit of an ego. I doubt he’s willing to be my assistant.” His passive-aggressive tone dripped with poison. Veronica scoffed. “An ego? What right does he have to an ego? If it weren’t for me, his community college degree wouldn’t have even gotten him through the door. All I’m doing is revoking the special privileges I gave him, and he can’t handle it?” “Does he really think he can throw his seniority in my face?” Her words painted me as a useless leech, coasting on tenure. But my contributions to this company were greater than hers, and she knew it. That community college degree? That was because of her too. Veronica and I both came from nothing. We bonded over a shared dream: to make it big in this city, no matter what. But her family couldn’t afford the steep tuition and living costs. They were going to force her into an arranged marriage for the dowry. She had cried in my arms, begging me to help her, telling me she didn’t want to drop out. Because I loved her, I gave her every penny I had saved for my own tuition. I dropped out of university myself. I took grueling jobs in filthy restaurant kitchens, working my fingers to the bone just so she could have a better life. It wasn’t until two years ago, after our company finally took off, that I had a moment to breathe. I enrolled in a community college, planning to finish my bachelor’s degree. But she told me the company needed me. She asked me to put my education on hold again. So yes, my highest level of education is an associate’s degree. She knew exactly why. And now, she was using it as a weapon to humiliate me. I felt the weight of every stare in the room—disdain, pity, judgment. I clenched my fists. But when my eyes met her cold, unforgiving gaze, the fight drained out of me. The woman who had once looked at me with so much love was gone. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I turned, walked to the printer, and printed a single sheet of paper. My resignation. “If I’m just a community college grad,” I said, my voice flat, “then I guess I don’t belong here. After all, the minimum requirement for this company is a bachelor’s degree.” Veronica was stunned. She clearly hadn’t expected this. But she recovered quickly, her expression hardening. “I don’t care if this is some power play or a pathetic attempt to make me feel guilty. Once you walk out that door, you’re not coming back. This isn’t a revolving door, Finn.” I gave her a single, emotionless glance. “I know.” As I turned to leave, Spencer leaned in and whispered something in her ear. Her face contorted with disgust. “So that’s your game,” she spat, her voice dripping with venom. I had no idea what she was talking about. Then she threw a file onto my desk. It was a contract I had just secured a few days ago. Spencer made a show of clicking his tongue. “Finn, everyone knows you’re tight with Mr. Peterson from this client. The deal isn’t even finalized yet. You quitting now… it’s pretty obvious you’re trying to use this to blackmail the company, aren’t you?” “I get that you’re upset about being my assistant, but this is what the CEO wants. You can’t just defy her, can you?” The look of betrayal on Veronica’s face told me she believed him completely. The old me would have frantically tried to explain, to plead my case, to assure her I would never do such a thing. But now? All I wanted to do was laugh. She knew. Deep down, she knew I was the one holding this company together, but her pride would never let her admit it. So she crushed me with one hand while using me with the other. Before, I had tolerated it because I loved her. Now, I just felt like a fool. I had sacrificed my future for a woman who wouldn’t even give me the title of “boyfriend” in public. I had lost my pride, my dignity, everything. The rage that should have been boiling inside me was gone, replaced by a calm, chilling emptiness. I copied all the relevant files from my computer onto a drive and placed it on the desk. “Here are all the project details, including the final quotes. You can use this to move forward. I won’t say a word to the client.” I turned and walked away without another word. I could feel a burning gaze on my back, but I didn’t look back. The moment I stepped out of the building, the air felt cleaner, fresher. I hadn’t even had a chance to enjoy it when Veronica came running after me. She grabbed my arm, her brow furrowed with accusation. “I say a few words and you just walk out? What is that supposed to mean? You were the one who said you wanted to step back and let me run the company!” A cold laugh echoed in my chest. “I agreed to step back, Veronica. I never agreed to let you cheat on me!” She had been out all night, then shown up with a love bite and Spencer on her arm. And then she had the audacity to demand I work as an assistant for that clueless pretty boy. I may be loyal, but I’m not an idiot. “Cheat on you?” she stomped her foot, her voice rising. “What are you talking about? Spencer and I are just friends! Stop being so jealous!” Before I could retort, Spencer appeared, an apologetic look plastered on his face. “I’m so sorry, Finn. I had no idea you were resigning because you were jealous.” “But I was out with clients last night for the company. I had too much to drink, and Veronica was just looking out for me. Nothing happened between us, I swear. Please don’t misunderstand.” As he spoke, he deliberately angled his head, revealing a series of fresh scratch marks on his neck. The little bastard was provoking me. The old Finn would have exploded, demanding Veronica swear she would never see Spencer again. But after years of fighting the same battles, I was done. She would never change. And I had no desire to continue this pathetic dance. I said nothing, my face a cold mask. Veronica took the initiative, her hand finding mine. “I know you’re just acting out because you’re jealous. I’ll let it slide this time.” “We have a very important dinner meeting tonight. It can’t happen without you. Please, just pull yourself together and come with me.” Her voice was soft, a clear attempt at reconciliation. But it just sounded like a cruel joke. If it weren’t for this dinner, she wouldn’t have even bothered chasing after me. My eyes drifted to Spencer, and my blood ran cold. He was wearing my shirt. It was the shirt Veronica had bought me for our third anniversary. I cherished it. I barely ever wore it, saving it for special occasions. Now, it was wrinkled and reeked of stale smoke and cheap liquor. I’d been wondering where it went after I’d left it out to dry a few days ago. Veronica must have given it to him. I noticed several small, yellowed cigarette burns on the sleeve. Something I had treasured, treated with such disrespect. Pathetic. And hilarious. My expression didn’t change. Veronica sighed. “Fine. If you come to the dinner tonight, I won’t change your position. Happy now?” I remained silent. “You’re just afraid of Spencer being promoted above you, aren’t you?” she continued, as if talking to herself. “So I’ll make you both equals. There. Are you satisfied? If I wasn’t worried about upsetting you, Spencer would have been in management from day one.” I finally looked her in the eye. “Promote him if you want. It has nothing to do with me.” Her face darkened. “What is that supposed to mean?” I laughed, a dry, humorless sound. “I already gave you my resignation. I have nothing to do with this company, and you have no reason to tell me any of this.” “Also, we’re breaking up.” Veronica’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What did you say?” I pulled out my phone and blocked her number right in front of her. “Do I really need to explain what ‘breaking up’ means?” “You dare break up with me?” Veronica hissed, her teeth clenched. “You were just telling me you wanted to meet my parents! What is this, some kind of game?” I pointed at Spencer with my chin. “Oh, so you do remember that? For a minute there, I thought you’d forgotten.” “How was the bar last night?” Yesterday was the day. The day we had planned for over six months. The day I was finally supposed to meet her parents. I had spent a fortune on gifts, wanting to make the best possible impression. I waited on the couch all day. From morning until night. Veronica never came. Instead, I saw Spencer’s smug post on social media. A picture from a loud, crowded bar. Veronica was curled up in his lap, their bodies pressed together intimately for all the world to see. I waited for an explanation. An apology. I got nothing. In fact, she had clearly forgotten all about it, demanding I become Spencer’s assistant without a shred of guilt. She was heartless. “I already told you,” she snapped, her defensiveness flaring into anger, “the company isn’t public yet! It’s still small! You know my parents favor my brother over me. We have nothing to show for ourselves, so how can we get married? You never try to understand my pressure, you just keep pushing me to meet them!” “So what if I went out for a drink to blow off some steam?” I laughed until I couldn’t breathe. “Nothing’s wrong with it. Do whatever you want. It has nothing to do with me.” Spencer, dropping his apologetic act, stepped in front of Veronica. “You’re the one making wild accusations. The CEO and I have a clear conscience. We have nothing to hide!” Veronica looked at Spencer with gratitude, then turned to me, her eyes filled with resentment. “If you want to throw a tantrum, fine. I’ve said all I’m going to say.” Tears of frustration welled in her eyes. Watching the scene unfold, I felt nothing. It was almost funny. Whenever we had a problem, Veronica never tried to solve it. She would just throw a fit. And if that didn’t work, she would cry until I gave in. She was using the same old trick. But this time, I didn’t react. I just turned and walked away. She screamed my name, absolutely furious. But I only ever caved because I loved her. Without love, she was just a stranger. I deleted everything that reminded me of her. Then I sent a message to my best friend, who was living abroad. “I’m in. Let’s start that import-export business.” I was about to call him to catch up when my phone rang. An unknown number. “Hello, is this Mr. Finnian Reed? Your father’s medical bills are two weeks overdue. We’ve been trying to call you, but we couldn’t get through. We had to stop his treatment a few days ago. He passed away that same day. We were calling to ask when you would be available to… collect the body.” The world tilted. I couldn’t breathe. “What did you say?” I asked, my voice a strangled whisper. My father was the only family I had left. A car accident years ago had left him in a coma, a vegetable. He was kept alive by machines and IV drips in the ICU. To keep him alive, I had arranged for my entire salary to be deposited into a dedicated account that the hospital could draw from directly. How could the bills be overdue? The person on the other end repeated, “The card you provided for the hospital was frozen two weeks ago. We’ve been trying to contact you, but the number we have on file is no longer in service…” I was the second-in-command at the company. There was no reason for accounting to freeze my account. There was only one person who could have done this…

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1 My best friend, Scarlett, and I had somehow transmigrated into the bodies of the villainous sisters. She was a glamorous It-Girl, the darling of the entertainment industry, backed by the scion of the city’s elite, Lord Preston. I was the stunning A-list actress, infamous for my extravagant spending, the prized possession of the new money magnate, CEO Beckett. We bickered and squabbled, yet together, we crushed every wannabe starlet and social climber under our heels. That was until the innocent ‘pure white flower’ appeared. For her, Lord Preston, a.k.a. Preston Hayes, halted Scarlett’s projects. For her, CEO Beckett, a.k.a. Ethan Beckett, hadn’t touched me in days. Ah, the protagonist has arrived. … The Gold Star Awards ceremony was ablaze with flashbulbs. Scarlett and I, a freshly crowned Best Actress and a top-tier It-Girl, sat front and center in the first row, our designer gowns flowing together, an undeniable spectacle. Scarlett, her nails tipped with brilliant red polish, nudged me. “See that? Fifth row, dressed like she just rolled out of a thrift store. That’s Lily Evans.” She whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the crowd. I followed her gaze. A girl in faded jeans and a worn-out T-shirt stood out like a sore thumb among the sea of haute couture. “Is this chick clueless or is it some kind of performance art? Ugh, quite the statement,” I commented, a smirk playing on my lips. Scarlett snorted. “She’s going for the ‘pure, resilient little daisy’ vibe. Don’t get it? Soon enough, she’ll be ‘accidentally’ bumping into a powerful CEO. The main plot is definitely kicking off.” During the intermission, as the elegantly dressed crowd began to mingle, Lily, clutching a glass of red wine, took an “unfortunate” stumble. The entire contents of her glass, without fail, splashed all over a man. His pristine white custom-tailored suit instantly bloomed with large, crimson stains. Lily’s face blanched, her eyes welling with tears. “Oh, m-my apologies! Mr. Hayes, I truly didn’t mean to! I’ll replace it for you…” She trailed off, biting her lip, a picture of tearful, humble despair – how could a poor person like me ever afford to replace such a thing? Preston’s assistant was about to unleash a tirade, but Preston himself simply raised a hand. Far from angry, he offered Lily a handkerchief. “It’s fine. Wipe up, don’t be startled.” Watching the scene unfold from a distance, I playfully teased, “Looks like your sugar daddy’s getting hit on, Scarlett.” Scarlett’s smile stiffened for a second, then she forced a casual shrug. “Don’t worry, your big shot CEO won’t last three seconds either. This is where we start our villainess antics.” Preston had Lily sit beside him, effectively taking Scarlett’s usual spot. And my own CEO boyfriend, Ethan Beckett, Preston’s closest friend, was watching the whole thing with a curious smirk. Scarlett immediately slid into character, sashaying over, glass in hand, a captivating smile gracing her lips. “Preston, aren’t you going to introduce us? Who’s this young lady?” Lily, startled, shrank back behind Preston. “Miss Scarlett, please don’t misunderstand, Mr. Hayes asked me to sit here.” “I told her to sit here,” Preston cut in, his gaze sweeping over Scarlett. “Got a problem with that?” Scarlett’s smile vanished, her expression turning icy. She pressed on, unrelenting. Bravo, sis! You’re a quick study. Scarlett then swung her glass of red wine, aiming to drench Lily, but Preston swiftly raised a hand and slapped her across the face. He then loudly chastised Scarlett, mindlessly defending his new favorite. I walked over to Ethan, tugging at his sleeve. “That’s enough, give your friend some space. No need to make his girlfriend’s life a living hell.” Ethan, however, grabbed my wrist, his grip alarmingly strong. “Stella, since when did you become so busybody?” He flung my hand away and strode directly to Lily, taking off his own suit jacket and draping it over her shoulders with an air of possessive authority. “Miss Evans, please don’t mind them. They’ve been spoiled by us and don’t know any better. I apologize on their behalf.” Every eye in the banquet hall was fixed on us. Humiliation. Raw, public humiliation. Lily timidly looked up. “Mr. Beckett, please don’t be like this, it’s not your fault. It’s my fault, I shouldn’t be here.” She then started to cry. Ethan, his face full of concern, turned to me, his gaze freezing over. “Stella, come here.” He commanded. “Apologize to her.” I stood my ground, unmoving. I rolled my eyes at the overly dramatic Lily. Apologize to her? An A-list actress like me? She wouldn’t even be fit to carry my shoes on set, a ladder-climber who got ahead by buttering up directors. What a joke. Ethan’s patience snapped. He strode over to me, grabbing my arm. “Stella, don’t forget who you are. You’re nothing but a toy I bought and paraded around. If you don’t want me to cut off your resources, you’ll apologize to Miss Evans right now.” “Or,” he leaned closer, his voice a low growl meant only for my ears, “do you want me to teach you, in front of everyone, how to be a good little dog?” I felt a rush of blood to my head, followed by an instant chill. I looked at him, a sudden, almost serene smile gracing my lips, and slowly raised my hand, my gaze falling on the eight-figure Patek Philippe Sky Moon Tourbillon on my wrist. With a crisp click, I unfastened the clasp. Ethan’s face instantly darkened. “Stella, what are you doing?” I placed the cold, heavy wristwatch into his palm. The chill of the metal made him flinch instinctively. “Mr. Beckett, the five-year lease is up,” my voice was terrifyingly calm. “This watch, returned to its rightful owner.” With that, I turned and walked away, not sparing him another glance. Scarlett was quick on the uptake, her ten-centimeter heels clicking as she caught up to me, linking her arm through mine. “Men over 25 are practically sixty. Do these hundred-and-twenty-year-old geezers really think we’re desperate? Stella, let’s go have some real fun.” Under the gaze of hundreds, we walked out of the Gold Star Awards banquet, heads held high. Once outside, the evening breeze hit me, and I realized my back was drenched in cold sweat. Scarlett and I, two women in couture gowns and sparkling jewelry, stood arm in arm on a deserted street in the early hours of the morning, waiting for a ride-share. “I got a text,” I said, shaking my phone. The screen showed a bank notification – account frozen. “Ethan moves fast. All my cards are stopped.” “Tricky old man,” Scarlett rolled her eyes. “Mine too.” It had started to drizzle, tiny needles of cold rain pricking our exposed shoulders. We stumbled along, supporting each other, towards a nearby bus shelter to escape the rain. Sitting on the cold metal bench, raindrops dripped from our hair, our expensive gowns plastered damply to our skin. My mind was a chaotic mess, dominated by Ethan’s words: “good little dog.” Five years ago, when I first transmigrated, I was a struggling actress, a mere extra on set. I’d refused a director’s inappropriate advances, been slapped, and was curled in a corner, crying. That’s when Ethan appeared, like a god descending. He kicked the director away, then charmingly removed his suit jacket and draped it over me, covering my torn costume. His hand gently touched my swollen cheek, his voice deep and powerful. “Does it hurt?” I nodded, tears still flowing. He pulled me into a protective embrace. “From today on, no one dares to lay a hand on you but me. Stella, you won’t have to answer to anyone else. You only need to look at me.” Back then, I thought he was my savior. The rain intensified, and I began to shiver with cold. Scarlett took off her warm little shawl and wrapped it around me. “What are you thinking about?” “I’m wondering if I made a mistake from the very beginning.” “What good is thinking about that now?” Scarlett said. “Let’s figure out what we do next. All our resources are going to Lily.” Just then, my phone screen lit up. A text from an unknown number. “Saw you at the awards. Are you okay? Your old friend, Shane Yu.” Shane Yu. The name made me pause. He was a friend from my real life, before I transmigrated. We had anticipated this day, secretly saving up and buying a small apartment together. Back in our apartment, after shedding our soaked gowns and taking a long, hot shower, we curled up on the sofa, each with a mug of hot cocoa. I opened my phone to check social media. Eight out of the top ten trending topics were about us. #StellaBeckettSplit #ScarlettFallsFromGrace #LilyNewPrincessOfPrestonDynasty #BeckettHayesBrotherhood The comments section was even more… colorful. “LOL, I always hated Stella, a gold digger who actually thought she was the main squeeze.” “Scarlett too, always scowling. Preston must have been sick of her!” “Am I the only one who thinks Lily is so brave and pitiful? She’s like a pure white lotus blooming in the mud!” “^Above, I just got inside info: Stella’s S-tier blockbuster, Phoenix’s Cry, the lead role has been given to Lily!” “Figures,” Scarlett scoffed. “Killing two birds with one stone. One gets resources, the other gets to invest. Her plans are so obvious, you can hear them from a mile away.” Just as she finished speaking, Scarlett’s phone rang. She answered it with a questioning look, putting it on speaker. “Hello?” A soft, tearful female voice came from the other end. “Is… is this Miss Scarlett?” “I am truly sorry,” she choked out. “I didn’t know things would turn out this way. Mr. Hayes just took pity on me, that’s why he helped me. Your and Miss Stella’s projects being canceled, it’s all my fault.” Scarlett scoffed. “Get to the point.” “I heard Mr. Beckett say that Miss Stella must be going through a lot right now. Mr. Beckett actually cares about her very much, he’s just mad she’s so proud, unlike me, who understands how to be considerate.” “And?” “So if you two need money, I can go beg Mr. Beckett and Mr. Hayes, they both have very kind hearts.” “Lily Evans!” Scarlett cut her off. “Are you seriously thick, or just pretending? Do I need to translate ‘get lost’ for you?” With that, Scarlett hung up. “Damn it,” she threw her phone aside. “Top-tier green tea, confirmed. She’s trying to provoke us.” I nodded, about to speak when my former agent, Ms. Jenkins, called, sobbing hysterically. “Stella, my dear girl! My precious daughter! Mr. Beckett pulled funding from Phoenix’s Cry! He said he won’t invest a dime unless you’re replaced! The production team has officially announced Lily as the new lead!” I comforted Ms. Jenkins for a few moments, then hung up, my heart cold. Ethan was clearly trying to cut off all my paths. Scarlett’s phone rang again. The name ‘Preston Hayes’ flashed on the screen. Scarlett stared at the name for a few seconds, then swiped to answer. From the other end, Preston’s voice was chillingly devoid of emotion, cutting straight to the chase. “Lily is allergic to cat fur.” Scarlett said nothing. “Get rid of that cat you keep in the hillside villa.” That ragdoll cat was a gift from Preston last year, flown in from overseas at a six-figure cost for Scarlett’s birthday. He’d even personally said, “It’s called ‘Unique,’ because you are my only one.” Scarlett gripped her phone, her knuckles white from the pressure. Preston, on the other end, grew impatient. “Did you hear me? Immediately. Now.”

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The year I married Chancellor Sterling, I was seven years old, still just a little girl half the height of an adult. On our wedding night, Elias Sterling pinched my chubby cheeks and asked if I knew what I was supposed to call him. I looked up at him, beaming, and said, “Big Brother.” A smile appeared on his pale face. “Chloe is right. From now on, I am your Big Brother.” 1 The day my parents died in battle and their coffins were brought home, I was in the backyard making mud dolls. Within moments, white mourning banners fluttered across the courtyard. I looked up at them, not understanding why the colorful flags we usually put out were the wrong color today. Usually, when Mom and Dad came home, we hung red flags. Before I could figure it out, the Dowager Empress arrived. She hugged me, crying so hard she soaked my shoulder. I asked, “Grandmother, why are you crying?” Hearing my words, the tears she had barely managed to stop started rolling down her face again. It wasn’t until nightfall that I finally understood what was happening. I sat alone in the ancestral hall, tightly clutching the peace amulet my mother had given me before she left for the war. I wasn’t sad, and I didn’t want to cry. I just felt like a piece of my heart was missing. Mommy could never coax me to sleep again, and Daddy could never show off his sword tricks for me again. I would never see them again. 2 The funeral was incredibly grand. High-ranking officials from a hundred miles around came to pay their respects. Wearing mourning clothes, I knelt before the altars, bowing and returning respects to every guest who came and went. Until the evening. The sunset was tragically beautiful. I was mesmerized by the setting sun outside the door, remembering how much my mother loved watching it. Lost in thought, my wrist was suddenly burned by the fire in the incense burner. With a soft rustle, someone quickly picked me up and pressed a cool, wet cloth against my burn. He was very tall and very thin. Dressed in white, the autumn wind swirling around him, even his fingers were icy cold. “Does it hurt?” He asked me. I shook my head and even unwrapped the cloth to show him the mark. “Doesn’t it look like a burning cloud?” He froze for a moment, then nodded. I wrapped the cloth back around my wrist and, following the rules I’d been taught, bowed to return his respect. A pair of cloud-white shoes paused in front of me for a moment. When I looked up again, I only saw his thin, retreating back. I knew who he was. Chancellor Elias Sterling. The most respected and powerful civil official in the current court. 3 After the thirty-five-day mourning period for my parents ended, the Dowager Empress brought me into the palace. She had aged significantly, and a deep exhaustion she never used to have now lined her face. She beckoned me to her side, studying my face for a long time before her eyes turned red again. I knew she was grieving. My mother was her youngest daughter, doted on since childhood. “Little Chloe,” the Dowager Empress said, holding my hand tightly, eventually asking only one question. “Do you trust your grandmother?” I nodded. With my parents gone, she was the only person I could trust. “I couldn’t protect your mother, and I’m afraid I might not be able to protect you,” she paused for a long time before continuing. “I found someone who can protect you. I’m going to send you to his home, okay?” I asked, “Who can protect me?” She answered, “Chancellor Sterling.” So I said yes. And just like that, less than half a month later, I was “married” out of the Vance Manor and into the Sterling Estate. On the day I left, tens of thousands of commoners knelt along the main street. They watched my wedding procession, escorting me all the way to the Sterling Estate. The senior maid beside the Dowager Empress told me that because I was an orphan, everyone was afraid I would be bullied. The Dowager Empress’s reach from within the palace was limited, so she entrusted her bitter hopes to the commoners who loved and respected my parents. I thought that was nonsense. It was true I was an orphan, but I wasn’t some beggar child anyone could bully. I was the only daughter of General Vance and Princess Joy. I was one of the most noble women in the world. Whether the Dowager Empress protected me or not, I wouldn’t let anyone bully me. 4 The bridal chamber was huge, and very empty. Elias’s health was poor; he couldn’t touch a single drop of alcohol. So I didn’t have to wait long before he arrived. Once everyone else left, I quickly pulled away the fan covering my face and enthusiastically started fanning him. He looked at me in confusion. I said, “It’s an Indian summer. You’re so hot your forehead is sweating.” He chuckled softly, then immediately checked my wrist. The burn scar wasn’t obvious, but you could still faintly see it. He frowned. “Why did it leave a scar?” I said it didn’t matter, the shape of the scar was pretty anyway, like I was wearing a floral decal. The room was too stuffy, and my head was heavy with sleep. So I proactively asked him, “Are you going to sleep?” He smoothed out the blankets for me. “I’m going to the study. You go to sleep early.” I grabbed his sleeve. “Are you making me sleep all by myself?” He paused for a moment before saying, “Chloe will have to sleep by herself from now on.” I said “Oh,” rolled up the blanket, and quietly took off my outer robe. Elias quickly stood up, but I was faster, jumping onto the floor barefoot. “Big Brother!” He turned around, asking clearly, word by word: “Do you know what you’re supposed to call me?” I reached for his hand. The icy touch instantly calmed my heart. “Big Brother.” Elias bent down, picking me up with one arm. A smile finally broke through on his pale face. “Little Chloe is right. From now on, I am your Big Brother.” 5 That night, Elias coaxed me to sleep. He surprisingly knew how to sing lullabies. His soft, airy voice carried a warmth that burrowed into my heart little by little. With my back to him, the corners of my eyes grew wet. When my mother sang, she was just as gentle as Elias. I missed her. The next day, I woke up very late. Sunlight filled the room. I groggily opened my eyes, disoriented for a good while before remembering I was in the Sterling Estate. Servants trickled in to attend to me, but their respectful expressions held a hint of curiosity and scrutiny. They had never seen such a tiny new bride. Remembering the Dowager Empress’s instructions, I deliberately put on airs when speaking to them. Until a little maid’s stomach suddenly growled. I completely lost my composure and burst out laughing. I ended up rolling on the floor, clutching my stomach, laughing uncontrollably. When I finally laughed enough, someone walked into the room. He stood there quietly, radiating an aura of authority and aloofness without saying a word. “Madam is hungry. Serve the food. I will dine with Madam.” Elias pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve and carefully wiped the drool I had laughed onto my chin. I freed my right hand and grabbed the little maid’s hand. “There are rose pastries on the table. I’m rewarding them to you. Eat a little so you won’t be hungry.” She tried to bow to me in terrified awe, but Elias stopped her. “Madam rewarded you. Eat them before you return to your chores.” I hopped off the chair and climbed onto Elias’s leg. “Big Brother, carry me.” The little maid walked away blushing. Elias tapped my head, then obediently picked me up. “Did Big Brother just come back from morning court?” I chatted with him aimlessly. For every question I asked, he gave an answer. Sometimes, if he couldn’t answer immediately, he would frown and think before replying. Until I asked him: “Is the new Emperor good?” The man holding me froze. Instead of answering, he asked, “Why do you ask, Chloe?” I blew on a spoonful of congee to cool it and offered it to him, lowering my voice. “I hope he doesn’t bully Grandmother.” The new Emperor was a prince of a different surname who had ascended the throne. He wasn’t my grandmother’s child. Grandmother didn’t have any biological children left. The palace was so big—would she be scared? Would she be lonely? Elias didn’t say anything else. He just kept putting food in my bowl, telling me to eat well. Once I grew a little taller, he promised to take me to the palace to see her. I was happy, thinking that growing taller was easy. Which meant seeing Grandmother would be easy too. 6 Once winter arrived, Elias became incredibly busy. He woke up early and went to bed late, working like a shadow. On the Winter Solstice, a banquet was held in the palace, and Elias took me with him. I was bundled up like a little dumpling, layer upon layer, leaving the freezing wind no place to bite me. But looking like this had a perk: it made Grandmother think I had gained a lot of weight. She hugged me, finding it quite an effort, and smiled. “Good girl, you’ve put on weight.” Sitting at Grandmother’s knee, I told her about everything happening at the Sterling Estate. When her eyes crinkled into a smile, I finally let out a slow sigh of relief. Just as we were about to have our meal, a palace maid suddenly announced that Princess Sunny had arrived to pay her respects. I looked at Grandmother. She gently squeezed my hand, turned, and ordered, “Let the Princess in.” Princess Sunny was truly beautiful. Her fiery red cloak made her look like a radiant sun. I thought she looked a little bit like my mother. Of course, that’s assuming she wasn’t glaring at me. She curtsied to Grandmother, then stood to the side, looking at me haughtily, waiting for me to curtsy to her. But Grandmother was holding my hand. I couldn’t move an inch. So I pinched my throat and obediently called out, “Princess.” She was displeased, frowning at me. “Why doesn’t the little Duchess curtsy to me?” I let go of Grandmother’s hand, waddled my round, bundled-up body over to her, and said, “Please don’t blame me, Princess. I’m wearing too many layers. I can’t really bend my knees. I’m so sorry.” Princess Sunny froze, clearly not expecting me to say that. She immediately turned her head away, muttering “Idiot” under her breath. “Dowager Empress,” Princess Sunny stepped forward, her tone sharp and critical. “Why did you reject the posthumous title for my mother, Consort Guo?” Grandmother scoffed coldly. “Consort Guo committed suicide. How is she worthy of a posthumous title?!” “Heh.” Princess Sunny’s eyes burned fiercely, refusing to back down. “Was it suicide out of fear of punishment, or was she framed by someone else?” Grandmother’s face turned icy. “Insolence!” In the midst of this standoff, Elias arrived. After paying his respects to everyone, he waved to me. “Is Madam hungry?” I knew he was trying to break the tension, so I nodded. Grandmother’s expression softened slightly as she let the palace maids help her up. “I will dine with you two.” The moment she spoke, Princess Sunny sneered coldly from the side. “An old man and a child bride. You really have made yourselves the laughingstock of the world.” A sharp slap echoed in my ears. Princess Sunny held her cheek, staring at Grandmother in disbelief. “You dare hit me? Do you think you can control me with your dirty little secrets?” Grandmother stood tall and straight, the phoenix hairpin in her hair trembling slightly from her anger. “I am the Dowager Empress! No matter who the new Emperor is, I am the only, and the most supreme, Dowager Empress!” I had never seen Grandmother like this. In my memory, she had always been gentle and loving. In the past, when the late Emperor was alive, she was the virtuous and gracious Empress praised by all the officials. Later, when the late Emperor passed away, she remained unfazed in the face of danger. Amidst the chaos of the rebel army, she held the imperial seal and convinced everyone to support the current Emperor’s ascension. But today, even though she kept saying the word ‘supreme’, I felt that Grandmother had lost a lot of her confidence. I knew why. Everyone knew. 7 Perhaps frightened by what happened during the day, I developed a high fever as soon as we got home. Elias called for a doctor, but didn’t trust anyone else to take care of me, so he tended to my every need himself. I slept fitfully until the middle of the night. When I groggily opened my eyes, I saw a small desk set up by the bed. Under the dim lamplight, a shadowy figure sat there, the only sound the clear scratch, scratch of a brush against paper. “Big Brother.” The figure immediately stood up, bringing a cup of warm tea to my lips. “Your voice is hoarse. Drink some water to soothe it.” He then placed his hand on my forehead, repeating the action several times until he was finally relieved. “Your fever broke. You’ll be fine after another sleep, Chloe.” I grabbed his sleeve. “Big Brother, can you do me a favor?” Elias tucked the blankets around me, his tone perfectly calm. “Tell me.” “Help me protect Grandmother.” I was probably crying; my vision was blurry, but I didn’t want the tears to fall, so I bit my lip hard. “Grandmother works so hard. Please, Big Brother, protect her, okay?” Time seemed to stand still. Thunder rumbled outside the window, not too loud, not too soft, but landing perfectly in my ears. “I do not make promises lightly.” It took a long time for Elias to gently pull his sleeve from my grasp. “Chloe, you’re still young and might not understand. Some things cannot be accomplished by my power alone.” I made up my mind. I climbed out of bed, kneeling before him. “I won’t ask you to help me for nothing. I have something to trade with you, as long as you can keep Grandmother alive.” Elias looked at me, stunned. “What is it?” I lowered my voice. “The military seal…” Before I could finish, Elias immediately clamped his hand over my mouth. Being so close, I could clearly see the flash of anxiety and worry in his eyes. “That is not something a child like you should possess!” I climbed back onto the bed and opened the peace amulet. A bronze tiger lay in my warm palm. Elias was completely dumbfounded. Even though he was the Chancellor, brilliant from a young age, he probably never imagined that the tiger seal currently in the Emperor’s hands was a fake, and the real one was in mine. “My mom and dad didn’t die in battle, did they?” I spoke very calmly, as if I were telling Elias about an ordinary, everyday occurrence. “My dad was incredibly strong. At Jade Gate Pass, he fought a hundred men alone and came back without a scratch. In the Battle of Wintermoon, with so many troops, even if they lost, my dad wouldn’t have died.” I smiled, holding back the tears in my eyes. “Not to mention my mom was there. Even if he fought to the death, my dad would have absolutely protected her. “The new Emperor took the throne, feared my dad, and then plotted to murder him, right?” I voiced the suspicion that had been haunting me, my entire body trembling. Elias sighed and reached out to hug me. He placed his hand on my hair, leaving it there for a long time before finally saying, “You are only seven. Knowing too much is not a good thing.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, my voice choked with sobs. “Big Brother, please help Grandmother, okay?” Elias finally relented. He placed me back on the bed. Under the warm candlelight, the young man’s face was as beautiful as a painting. “Chloe, grow up well. Time heals all wounds. “And I will protect you well.” 8 Six years flew by. I was protected incredibly well by Elias. Grandmother once asked me what kind of feelings I had for him. I thought about it and finally remembered a very fitting phrase. “Like a father, like a brother.” I was eleven years younger than him. He treated me like his own little sister. He spoiled and doted on me, taught me how to read and write, and how to conduct myself in the world. He never once overstepped the boundaries of propriety with me. He knew the terror buried deep in my heart, and I understood his ambitions and aspirations. But deep down, I always held onto a different kind of hope. To stay together forever, growing old with him. I gently tapped the fan in my hand, suddenly feeling that this was a truly beautiful idea. But before that could happen, both he and I had a long, long road to travel. In the summer of the seventh year of the current reign, the Emperor suddenly fell gravely ill. Elias was a trusted civil official of the Emperor. Within moments of the Emperor falling ill, he was detained in the Emperor’s bedchamber by the palace eunuchs. The palace gates were shut tight, and the inside was already in complete chaos. However, that very night, during a brief moment of lucidity, the Emperor named a Crown Prince. He chose the son of Consort Li—who was actually Princess Sunny. When Elias returned to the estate and told me this, his tone was incredibly calm. “The Emperor made the wrong move.” I remained silent. Consort Li was a princess from the previous dynasty. The veteran officials who followed the current Emperor were naturally uneasy about this. But the Emperor was resolute, and no one could sway him. Not only that, the Emperor even ordered the recall of General Chen, a military commander stationed at the border. One civil, one military—he wanted Chen and Elias to jointly assist the Crown Prince. I was somewhat worried. “Big Brother,” I looked quietly at the man by the window. “General Chen and the Emperor are not of the same mind.” “I know.” Elias raised his hand and closed the window beside me. “But the Emperor trusts him implicitly. During the Battle of Wintermoon years ago, Chen gained immense favor with His Majesty.” During the Battle of Wintermoon, the Emperor might have just wanted to plot my father’s death, but he would never have used the entire empire as a bargaining chip. But why, on that day, were the city gates thrown wide open? Not only did my father perish, but the enemy troops, stationed a hundred miles away, were able to charge straight in. A battle they clearly could have won ultimately cost my father his life and the loss of over a dozen cities. Tens of thousands of soldiers died or were injured, yet General Chen, who was the deputy commander, emerged without a single scratch. He was promoted and given a title, taking over all the positions that originally belonged to my father. Chen harbored traitorous intentions. “Chloe,” the man before me tapped the table lightly. “What do you think?” I smiled. “Closing the door to beat the dog. Is Big Brother willing to be the stick Chloe uses to beat the dog?” “This plan is too dangerous, Chloe…” “Big Brother.” I was still smiling. “My parents cannot die in vain. I must avenge them myself.” “Chen and the Emperor… I won’t let either of them off.”

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The year my son was diagnosed with a critical illness and faced astronomical medical bills. My husband, Arthur, was paralyzed in a horrific car crash and lost his job. I divorced him. I abandoned them both, taking only our healthy six-year-old daughter with me. Five years later, my genius son graduated from college and was exceptionally admitted to MIT as a researcher. Arthur, now a self-made billionaire, accompanied him to an academic seminar. In the grand conference hall, a professor smiled and asked: “With such an incredible achievement today, who do you wish could see you the most?” My seventeen-year-old son, his expression cold and mature far beyond his years, replied: “My disgusting so-called biological mother, and her ungrateful parasite of a daughter.” Arthur let out a soft, mocking laugh. His eyes mirrored the same poorly concealed hatred. Until later that night, when they received a piggy bank that belonged to my daughter. The first note inside was written in a child’s messy, uneven handwriting: “Mommy says when the piggy bank is full, Anna can leave the hospital.” The very last note was written in the elegant handwriting Arthur knew best: “Goodbye. I’m going to keep my Anna company now.” 1 The night they received the piggy bank. Arthur and his son, Leo, had just walked out of the conference hall. On his left ring finger, the wedding band he shared with me had been removed, replaced by a new, brilliant diamond ring. The young woman holding his arm was likely his new wife. A self-made billionaire and a seventeen-year-old prodigy—they were the center of attention wherever they went. It took a long time for the media cameras and the crowd of eager networkers trailing behind them to finally disperse. Arthur stepped away from the crowd, standing under a streetlight, and lowered his head to light a cigarette. From the shadows not far away, a young girl in her early twenties hesitated for a long time before finally running over. She carefully held out a piggy bank to him. “Are you… Mr. Arthur Sterling?” Through the smoke, Arthur looked at the girl, then down at the piggy bank in her hands. His expression instantly turned freezing cold. Taped to the piggy bank was a sticky note with my handwriting: “Countdown to Anna’s Discharge.” Separated by the river of five long years, the paper had already started to yellow. After a brief, stunned pause, Arthur let out a scoff. “Whatever trick Chloe is playing this time, just say it straight.” Leo, the usually gentle and polite teenager, also showed a look of pure disgust. “She disappeared for five years. I thought she was actually going to hide in her hole forever.” The young girl’s eyes turned red, her voice trembling. “They… they both passed away years ago.” “I’ve been searching so hard these past few years to find the ‘Arthur’ and ‘Leo’ they wrote about. It wasn’t until today, seeing you on the news, that I finally found you.” Arthur laughed out loud. Perhaps the cigarette smoke caught in his throat, making his eyes water as he laughed. “Oh, so they tragically passed away five years ago? “What an unspeakable, heartbreaking tragedy. “Tell me, exactly how large of a check do Leo and I need to write to express our profound grief?” The girl looked at them in sheer disbelief. In the letters written by me and my daughter, Anna, this father and son were always described as the gentlest, most caring people in the world. She then looked at the woman standing beside Arthur. This was what they had become. Her eyes blazed with grief and anger. She snatched the piggy bank back, hugging it tightly to her chest. “If you don’t want it, then forget it! “I will bury it with their ashes.” Arthur’s eyes were filled with sarcasm. He reached out and snatched the piggy bank back from her. His voice was mocking: “Since the play has already been rehearsed so perfectly, wouldn’t it be a shame if the audience didn’t watch it?” As he spoke, he pulled out the first folded letter from inside the piggy bank. Unfolding it, he read the childish handwriting with an expressionless face. 2 “December 18th. “Going to a new hospital in a new city. “Mommy says when the piggy bank is full, Anna can leave the hospital. “This is my first time writing a diary. Good thing the smartest big brother in the whole wide world taught me how to spell and write. “Good thing Anna is the one who is sick, not the smartest big brother in the whole wide world!” It was a few short sentences, full of spelling errors and backward letters. Printed below the text was a photograph. It was six-year-old Anna sitting on an Amtrak train, both fists raised in the air, striking a superhero pose. Her small face was beginning to show signs of pallor, but her eyes were curved into happy crescents from her bright smile. On the back of the paper was the note I had written while hiding in the hospital stairwell. … Anna went to the hospital because of a severe nosebleed. Leo held her, tears streaming down his face. He loved his little sister more than anything; he was so anxious he literally threw up. So, he had his blood drawn for testing alongside Anna. When the results came back, Anna was fine. But Leo… Leo was diagnosed with leukemia. His only hope was a bone marrow transplant. Even if we could find a matching donor, the surgery and post-op care would cost at least half a million dollars. We didn’t have anywhere near that kind of money. Leo told us he didn’t want the treatment. Anna cried, hugging his arm tightly. Arthur suffered a total mental breakdown. He hid it from me and went out to beg everyone he knew for loans, getting the door slammed in his face time and time again. Driving home in a torrential downpour, exhausted and delirious, he got into a horrific car accident. After an all-night emergency surgery, he was left with severe trauma to his organs and spine. He was paralyzed in a hospital bed, unable to even stand. Just as I was crying so hard I couldn’t breathe, the doctor suddenly pulled me aside and told me that Leo’s test results had been mixed up with someone else’s. It felt like a miracle dropped from heaven, a brush with death. But the very next second, I was dragged straight down into hell. “The blood sample that tested positive for leukemia… belongs to your daughter, Anna.” I stood frozen in the doctor’s office. Driven by an uneasy instinct, I turned around. I saw Anna standing outside the door. Her eyes were red, her tiny hands gripping the hem of her shirt in terrified panic. That night, Anna went missing. She left me a note that read: “Mommy, Anna is leaving. Mommy, Daddy, and Brother have to be happy every day.” I went insane looking for her. It wasn’t until late at night that I found her in the security office of the train station. She was trying to act like a grown-up, wanting to take a train far, far away by herself. I crouched down and hugged her tightly, the pain in my heart eating away at my bones. She guiltily wiped my tears and said: “Brother got sick and said he didn’t want treatment. He said it was better to save the money for me to go to school. “So, I want to save the money for Brother to go to school too. “Brother is a genius. He can go to college next year. All the kids at school are so jealous of me.” Leo was the best big brother in the world. During the times when Arthur and I were the busiest with work and had no time to watch them, he meticulously took care of his little sister. He raised the most obedient, sensible Anna. I held Anna, my body trembling uncontrollably, my heart filled with absolute despair. Anna, trying to act like an adult, gently patted my back. The chill of the early winter streets seeped into my bones. I looked out at the long, fog-covered road, unable to see any hope. Anna’s childish voice whispered in my ear: “Anna knows that even if we take out all the money we have, it’s not enough to cure me. “So Mommy, let Brother keep studying, and let Daddy use the money to heal his injuries, okay?” I remained silent for a long time before looking at her: “Then Mommy will go with you, okay? “We’ll leave the money for Daddy and Brother. “We’ll play a game of hide-and-seek with them. When… when Anna is all cured, we’ll come back.” Anna thought about it for a long time. Finally, she nodded heavily: “Okay!” … The first letter ended there. Standing nearby, Leo seemed unable to listen to any more. He let out a cold laugh: “So you’re trying to say Anna got leukemia?” Arthur scoffed lightly: “She used to be a screenwriter, after all. She really knows how to write a convincing script.” As he spoke, his face a mask of cold impatience, he flipped to the next page. 3 “December 20th. Admitted Anna to the hospital.” Before leaving for the specialized hospital out of state, I forced Arthur to sign the divorce papers. He lay in the hospital bed, his entire body wrapped in bandages, his voice thick with despair: “Chloe, I told you I’d figure out a way. “You can’t… you can’t be this cruel.” I didn’t waver. I divorced him. I packed a bag and took Anna away. Leo chased after us, blocking our path. His eyes were bloodshot, his voice shaking: “I told you, I won’t get the treatment! I won’t do it! Don’t worry, I won’t drag you down!” He reached out, trying to grab my hand. But I dodged him. As we stepped into the elevator, Leo’s trembling voice called out from behind: “Anna, what about you? “Mom and Dad were always busy. I’ve spent more time taking care of you than Mom ever did. “Just because I’m sick, you’re going to follow her and abandon me and Dad?” Anna’s face was already covered in tears. But she simply gripped my hand even tighter with her tiny fingers. A silent answer. Behind us, Leo finally let out a broken, raspy laugh: “Fine. Hahaha. Fine…” On the train heading south, Anna curled up in my arms. She cried and cried and cried. I wanted to cry too. But I couldn’t. I had to comfort my daughter. I sold my diamond ring. I sold the vintage watch my mother left me before she died. I was an unfilial daughter. Even when she was alive, I wasn’t able to do much for her. I sold every necklace, every piece of jewelry I had on me. I sold it all. Adding it all up, it was barely fifty thousand dollars. But it was enough to cover the short-term hospitalization fees. I pray… I pray the heavens show mercy, so my Anna can survive. I pray that one day, our family can be reunited. … The writing on the second letter ended. Arthur read it with cold eyes, his emotions completely flat. He sneered, “Writing all this garbage just to justify pawning off our things for cash?” But the cigarette in his left hand had burned all the way down to his fingertips, and he didn’t even seem to notice. He wasn’t as calm as he appeared on the surface. His mouth spewed disgust. But he still flipped to the next letter. 4 “January 1st. “Mommy says the bone marrow match results are in. “I don’t really understand, but Mommy says it means my sickness is going to be cured. “She can give me her bone marrow. And when it’s done, we can go home. Back to Daddy and Brother. “Mommy was so happy she cried. She hugged me and said, ‘Don’t be scared, Anna. Just half a month and you’ll be all better. It won’t hurt at all.’ “I’m a little scared. “But I want to know more… when Mommy gives me her bone marrow, will it hurt her? “I miss Daddy and Brother a little bit. “If Daddy and Brother were here, they could protect Mommy while I’m asleep getting my new bone marrow.” Beneath the crooked, wobbly handwriting—a result of her rapidly failing strength—I had attached another photo of her. She was still smiling, flashing a peace sign at the camera. But the slightly blurry photo couldn’t hide the dark bruises and swelling on the back of her small hand from the IV lines. Because of the chemo, her beautiful long hair had all been shaved off. Her left hand was self-consciously tugging at the new beanie I had bought her. I purposely got the hospital gown one size smaller, but it still hung loosely off her frame. In just half a month, she was basically skin and bones. Arthur held the letter, his eyes locked on the photo. He didn’t move for a long time. The sarcastic, mocking words seemed to lodge in his throat. Leo, trying to maintain his uncaring facade, glanced sideways at the photo. His expression froze for a split second. It took him a while to snap out of it and force a cold laugh. But whether it was the cold wind blowing or something else, a faint, almost imperceptible tremble entered his voice. “Nice Photoshop skills. With that hat on, you really can’t see her hair. “She has to wear a hat. Anna loves her hair more than anything. She’d never actually let anyone cut it off.” The girl standing in front of them had tears streaming down her face. “It’s not Photoshop. It’s real. Anna’s hair fell out because of the chemo. “At the time… at the time… they really thought she was going to survive.” Her voice broke into a sob. Arthur seemed to have reached the end of his tolerance. His brow furrowed in impatient anger: “Enough! “You’ve orchestrated this massive drama, and now Leo and I have seen it. “Chloe’s acting is phenomenal, and she trained her daughter to be a perfect little actress too. “Is that enough? Are you satisfied?!” Furious, the girl reached out to snatch the piggy bank back. “Give it back! You two are nothing like the people Chloe and Anna wrote about!” Arthur, completely out of patience, backhanded the piggy bank, intending to knock it into the nearby trash can. Leo reached out and caught it. The boy’s eyes were full of resentment, his face growing colder by the second. “It seems that if we don’t finish reading this meticulously crafted script, they won’t leave us alone. “I’m actually starting to get curious. What kind of pathetic, ridiculous tragedy can such a cold-blooded person invent next?” Arthur’s face was completely black. He dropped his cigarette butt and crushed it under his shoe. Unwilling to stay a second longer, he threw one last sentence at the girl: “If Chloe wants money, tell her to come get it herself. Don’t expect to trade fairy tales for cash. I’m not a publisher buying scripts.” He glanced at Leo, who was still standing there. “If you want to read it so badly, read it yourself.” He led the young woman into his car and drove off without a moment’s hesitation. Souls cannot feel the wind. But floating in mid-air, watching his retreating back fade into the night, my eyes still burned. For five years, his broad back was always the thing that made me and my daughter feel the safest. Now, even though he had someone new by his side, his silhouette seemed to grow thinner and more desolate. I looked away from the agonizing sight. I watched Leo flip to the next letter. 5 “January 6th. Anna can’t hold the pen anymore, so I have to write it for her.” Below it was another photo of Anna. She was still smiling at the camera, but her face was completely drained of blood. … This morning, the little patient in the next bed over passed away. She was a year younger than Anna. Also a blood disorder. Last night before bed, Anna gave her a strawberry gummy bear. The little girl was so polite. She even said “thank you.” The medical staff came in and covered her face with a white sheet. They rolled her little bed, the one with the pink blankets, out of the room. Her family was crying hysterically, screaming in agony. The sound pierced my brain like sharp needles. Anna stared at the empty spot where the little girl’s bed used to be. She asked me: “Mommy, did that little girl go to sleep?” It took every ounce of strength I had to answer her: “Yes, sweetie. She went to sleep.” Anna asked again: “She’s never going to wake up again, is she?” I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I turned my head away in a panic, avoiding her eyes as tears cascaded down my face. Another girl in our ward, seeing this, immediately called Anna over to watch cartoons on her phone. I breathed a sigh of relief. When I looked over, the girl gave me a comforting look. She was seventeen. Her name was Mia. She had congenital hemophilia. She was constantly hospitalized, and she never had any family staying with her. When I wasn’t busy with Anna, I would help take care of her. She was grateful, so whenever she could, she helped me watch Anna. In this ward, we were all people bonded by mutual tragedy. That night, Anna’s nose started bleeding again, and she lost consciousness. Right before she passed out, she was struggling to comfort me: “Anna just wants to sleep a little bit longer, Mommy. “When you wipe the blood away, it’s gone. It doesn’t hurt at all.” I called the doctor in a panic. After an emergency intervention, the doctor warned me with a heavy voice: “The child’s condition can’t wait much longer. “You need to gather the funds as quickly as possible and prepare for the bone marrow transplant.” I lied to Anna. I told her that since we were using my bone marrow, it wouldn’t cost much money. So she was full of hope, waiting for the transplant, waiting to be discharged so she could see her Daddy and Brother. But even though I was the donor, the transplant surgery and post-op care would still cost at least three hundred thousand dollars. I sold every single script I had ever written. I added the money left over from selling my jewelry. Altogether, it was barely enough to hit a hundred thousand. I opened my phone and scrolled to a number I had found earlier. My blood type is special and incredibly rare. Maybe… maybe I could sell some plasma, or sign a long-term donation contract, to get the remaining two hundred thousand. But I wasn’t sure if doing something so unsafe would end up costing me my own life. I didn’t care about dying anymore. But I was terrified that even if I died, it still wouldn’t be enough to save Anna. The lights in the ward were off. The night was suffocatingly dark. Where was the light?

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When the adopted golden boy discovered I was the actual biological heir, he left a cynical little memoir titled The Stand-In’s Guide to High Society on my bed and caught the next flight to Europe. He claimed he needed to “find the meaning of life.” What he really meant was that he was leaving me to fulfill his contractual obligation—marrying into the Sinclair dynasty. My biological parents, too terrified to discipline the boy they’d raised as their own, simply yanked me out of the working-class diner I’d grown up in. They spent an exorbitant amount of money on etiquette coaches to scrub the blue-collar off me in a month, just in time to hand me over as the sacrificial lamb for the Sinclair corporate merger. Ten years later, having bled the world dry of its thrills, the golden boy returned. He was just as reckless and radiant as he was a decade ago. He walked right up to thirty-two-year-old Valerie Sinclair and handed her a glass jar filled with sand. “Every grain in here is a moment I spent missing you,” he whispered. I watched Valerie’s spine turn to steel, her entire body rigid. Then, Tristan turned his blinding, confident smile toward me. “I’m back. You can clock out now, understudy.” When Tristan left ten years ago, twenty-two-year-old Valerie Sinclair had lost half her soul. I couldn’t help but wonder. How would the cold, ruthless, notoriously bloodthirsty CEO of Sinclair Enterprises react to him now? 1 Valerie tossed the jar of sand onto the passenger seat without a second glance. Taking the cue, I opened the rear door and slid into the back. Valerie froze, her hand hovering over the door handle. “What are you doing?” I knew exactly what she was asking. It was a silent language we had forged over ten years of surviving the trenches together. “We had an agreement when we got married,” I said evenly, looking out the tinted window. “I told you I would never delude myself into thinking I could take Tristan’s place.” A decade ago, Tristan vanished on the eve of the engagement. Panicked, my biological parents dragged me out of obscurity, hastily introduced me to society, and shoved me down the aisle to save the merger. On our wedding night, Valerie drank herself into oblivion. She spent the entire night curled on the bathroom floor, sobbing Tristan’s name into the tiles. Over the next ten years, while Tristan was dancing at luaus in Hawaii, I was swallowing my pride, playing the submissive husband to appease her wicked stepmother. While Tristan was taking selfies with penguins in Antarctica, I was drinking myself into a bleeding ulcer at corporate dinners to secure the first major contract for her new subsidiary. He chased the Northern Lights. He watched sunsets over the Serengeti. I, meanwhile, navigated the lethal crossfire of the Sinclair family succession wars. In the process, I lost our first unborn child. Then our second. I even had a kidnapper’s blade pressed so hard against my throat it left a silver scar. Tristan got ten years of unbridled freedom, and now he had the audacity to waltz back in and tell me to pack my bags. He always wanted the fruit without planting the tree. What gave him the right? Valerie’s lips parted at my words. “Cole, actually, we…” Before she could finish the sentence, her phone rang. Tristan’s name lit up the dashboard console. The Bluetooth was connected. Valerie tapped the screen to answer. “Val,” Tristan’s voice filled the quiet of the luxury sedan, breathless and practically vibrating with shy excitement. “Mom and Dad said you guys still don’t have kids.” A pause. “Is it… is it because you were waiting for me?” “Tristan, what on earth are you talking about!” My mother’s voice panicked in the background, trying to snatch the phone. The topic of children was a graveyard in my mind. A permanent, suffocating taboo. When Valerie was twenty-five, she got pregnant for the first time. Her stepmother had her prenatal vitamins swapped with abortifacients. At twenty-eight, she got pregnant again. I was paranoid. I guarded her like a hawk, keeping her isolated and safe until the six-month mark. But somehow, a slow-acting toxin made its way into her system. The baby’s heart simply stopped beating. The day they induced labor to deliver our stillborn, I collapsed in the sterile hospital room, screaming until my vocal cords tore. Valerie had held me on that linoleum floor, her tears soaking my hospital gown, swearing on her life that she would never let anyone hurt us again. And she kept her word. In three years, she orchestrated a corporate massacre, exiling her stepmother and half-sister, seizing total control of the Sinclair empire. This year, at thirty-two, she was named the country’s top CEO. In her first major broadcast interview, she looked right into the camera and offered a polite, sanitized expression of gratitude for my “unwavering support.” A week after that interview aired, Tristan came home. In the rearview mirror, Valerie saw the color drain from my face. She jammed her finger against the screen, killing the call. “Cole,” she started, her voice tight. “Tristan doesn’t know what happened during those ten years. Don’t take it to heart.” “He’s always been sheltered,” she continued, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. “He speaks without thinking. He’s just impulsive…” “Enough,” I snapped, the exhaustion settling deep into my bones. “Since when does the ruthless Valerie Sinclair stumble over her words?” I let out a dry, hollow laugh. “Look at you… bending over backward to make excuses for a grown man.” Valerie’s jaw clenched. She swerved the car violently, throwing it into park on the shoulder of the road. “Cole. Are you still punishing me for what happened back then?” 2 During our first year of marriage, Valerie’s half-sister suddenly broke out in severe hives. Diane, Valerie’s stepmother, immediately pointed the finger at me, claiming I had snuck peanut oil into the kitchen’s baking supplies. Diane’s private security detail dragged me into the foyer. They forced me to my knees on the cold marble floor. I looked up at Valerie. I pleaded with my eyes. She had been with me the entire afternoon; she knew with absolute certainty that I was innocent. But Valerie just stood there, staring at the floor, absolutely silent. That day, two overgrown thugs slapped me across the face twenty times. By the time they were done, my mouth was pooling with blood, my vision swimming, my cheeks swollen and bruised purple. When we finally returned to our bedroom, Valerie handed me two ice packs, her eyes brimming with guilt. “The timing isn’t right yet to strike back. I hope you can understand.” Understand. That single word forced me to swallow a mouthful of blood and humiliation. Later that night, the throbbing pain woke me. I padded downstairs to the kitchen for more ice. That’s when I heard Valerie on the phone in the study. “Thank God it wasn’t Tristan… he wouldn’t have been able to handle it.” I froze in the dark hallway. The idea that love could be cultivated, that shared trauma forged an unbreakable bond—what a pathetic, laughable delusion. To this day, Valerie had no idea I heard her say that. Now, stinging from my sarcasm in the car, she stepped out onto the asphalt, running a frustrated hand through her hair. Right on cue, Tristan called again. She answered, but in her flustered state, she forgot to switch off the Bluetooth. Trapped in the backseat, I was forced to listen to Tristan’s sickeningly sweet voice in surround sound. “Val… can you come over and keep me company tonight?” She scrambled to kill the audio. Through the tinted glass, I watched Valerie pacing on the shoulder of the road, phone pressed to her ear, kicking at loose gravel. That nervous, frantic energy—she looked exactly like the lovesick twenty-two-year-old girl I met a decade ago. So this was the power of the ghost of her first love. It reduced a titan of industry to a blushing teenager. Ten minutes later, she climbed back into the driver’s seat, looking drained. “Cole, I’m going to drop you off at the house first.” “Tonight, I might need to…” “Save it,” I cut her off, my voice like ice. I really didn’t want to hear whatever garbage excuse she was about to invent to go see him. Realizing my tone was slipping, I took a breath and forced a mask of indifference. “You’re the CEO, Valerie. You don’t have to report to your subordinates.” The cold, corporate distance in my voice wasn’t lost on her. She slammed the palm of her hand against the steering wheel. “Cole, you have spent ten years building walls against me. Are you really that desperate to draw a line in the sand the second things get complicated?” It was comical, really. She was the one dancing on the borders of our marriage, yet she was casting me as the villain. I turned my head toward the window, fiercely swallowing the lump of emotion rising in my throat. If there was one thing ten years in this viper’s nest had taught me, it was that you can lose the battle, but you never lose your dignity. While the silence in the car thickened, my mother called. “Cole, sweetheart,” Helen’s voice was cloying. “Your father and I aren’t very good with words, so we had to ask Valerie to come over and help talk Tristan off the ledge.” “Can you just give your brother a little grace? He’s still young. He’ll understand eventually.” I scoffed. It was genuinely absurd. Thirty years old, and he’s still a child? Then why, ten years ago, when they were shoving me into this arranged marriage, did they tell me: “You’re a grown man now, Cole. It’s time you learned to shoulder the family’s burdens.” When I spoke, my voice was dead. “Mom. It’s comforting to know that you and Dad haven’t changed a bit. Still bending over backward to wipe Tristan’s messes.” “Though, I have to admit, your tone is a lot gentler than it used to be.” I was eighteen when they tracked me down and brought me back to the Prescott estate. But Tristan couldn’t tolerate my existence. He framed me, repeatedly. His tactics were sloppy, almost childish, but my biological parents chose to believe him every single time. The final straw was when he threw himself down a flight of stairs and claimed I pushed him. My father didn’t ask a single question before he backhanded me across the face. My mother wept, calling me vicious, screaming that they never should have brought the trash out of the gutters. Without asking what I wanted, they packed my bags and exiled me back to my adoptive mother’s diner. It wasn’t until their precious Tristan ran away from his wedding that they remembered their real son was available for emergency use. Looking back, my actual time living as a member of their family amounted to little more than a year. “Cole, do you really hate us that much?” my mother asked, sounding genuinely shocked. Her question stunned me. I thought my utter apathy toward them was glaringly obvious. Had a decade of peace without Tristan really caused them to forget who did what to whom? 3 Valerie didn’t come home that night. I wasn’t surprised. My head throbbed relentlessly until dawn as I sat in the dark, drafting a divorce agreement that finally felt fair. Switched at birth, dragged into high society, discarded like trash, then blackmailed into marriage… I never had a choice in my own life. At the very least, checking out of this marriage could be my decision. At 9:00 AM, Valerie called. “About last night…” “Val, come eat! I made your eggs exactly how you like them.” Tristan’s voice drifted through the receiver, close enough to make my stomach turn. “I’m not interested,” I interrupted, my tone flat. I had imagined a hundred different scenarios of what their “last night” entailed, and I didn’t want to hear a single one confirmed. “Cole, do you have to be this cold?” I stayed silent, letting the dead air hang. Through the line, I heard Tristan step closer to the phone. “Val, don’t fight with him.” “If my brother really can’t stand the sight of me, I can just leave for another ten years.” “Don’t be ridiculous,” Valerie said softly, her voice laced with comfort. Then, directing her words back to the phone: “There’s a Prescott family dinner in a few hours. I want you there.” “You have to come, Cole!” Tristan shouted in the background, his voice practically singing with triumph. I hung up. My grip on the phone was tight enough to crack the screen. Go? Of course I’m going. They were my parents, my wife. What the hell did I have to be afraid of? Two hours later, draped in bespoke Tom Ford, I walked into the Prescott family estate like I owned it. I found Tristan sitting cross-legged on the plush sofa, barefoot, wearing silk pajamas with his hair perfectly tousled. He was holding a stack of glossy photographs, animatedly describing his worldly adventures to the three people hanging onto his every word. When Tristan saw me, he paused. Then, he covered his mouth and let out a bright, mocking laugh. “Cole, it’s just a family lunch. Why are you dressed in full battle armor?” “Don’t tell me you’re so insecure you feel the need to compete with me over Sunday brunch?” I stopped in my tracks. My fingers twitched, curling into fists at my sides. But I forced the corners of my mouth up into a condescending smirk. “Well, seeing as you spent at least forty minutes blending your tinted moisturizer this morning, someone is clearly competing.” “I’m not like you, Tristan. If a paparazzo snaps a photo of me looking like I just rolled out of a frat house, Sinclair Enterprises’ stock takes a hit.” “You—!” Tristan shot up from the sofa. His eyes instantly went red, tears welling up with practiced precision. “You’re nothing but a thief who stole my life while I was gone! How dare you stand there and flaunt it?” Hearing the word thief fall from the lips of the fake son was the height of black comedy. I glanced at my biological parents, who looked utterly paralyzed, and let out a genuine, booming laugh. “A thief? Let’s get the record straight on who stole what.” “When it suited you, you paraded around as the Prescott heir, claiming the trust fund and the legacy belonged to you.” “But when things got tough, suddenly you were ‘just Tristan,’ a free spirit who needed to find his own path.” “You bolted, leaving me to clean up your mess and marry into a goddamn warzone! You think I wanted any of this?” “Cole!” Valerie’s voice cut through the room like a whip. She had been silent until now. “Do you have to be so vicious about your regrets?” Her eyes were bloodshot. She stormed across the rug, closing the distance between us, and raised her right hand high in the air. I tilted my chin up, locking eyes with her, refusing to back down an inch. Do it, I thought. One slap to wake me up from a ten-year nightmare. “Val, don’t!” Tristan threw himself at Valerie from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist, his voice choking with sobs. “We cleared the air about our feelings last night. That’s enough for me.” “If you fight with my brother because of me, I’ll never forgive myself.” Our feelings? My brain short-circuited. Why didn’t she step away from his touch? The words bypassed my brain and tore out of my throat. “You’re real tough when it comes to me, Val.” “But the second Tristan whimpers, you roll over like a well-trained dog!” SMACK. The sound echoed through the high ceilings of the living room. The sting blossomed hot and sharp across my cheek. From behind Valerie’s shoulder, Tristan peeked out. The corner of his mouth twitched into a victorious smirk. “Cole,” my mother gasped, rushing forward, her trembling hands reaching for my bruised face. “Don’t touch me!” I roared, stepping back so violently I nearly tipped over. I put ten feet of distance between me and the rest of them. I locked eyes with Valerie, articulating every word with venomous clarity. “I want a divorce, Valerie. Ten years of my life. Two hundred million dollars. I think that’s a bargain.” Valerie’s pupils blew wide. She froze in place, staring at me as if the ground had just opened up and swallowed her. 4 “Two hundred million! Are you out of your mind?!” Tristan was the first to recover. “Valerie made that money. With Dad’s help. What did you ever do?” “You got to play billionaire playboy for a decade. You’ve taken enough. You have no right to ask for a dime!” I didn’t even acknowledge Tristan’s existence. My eyes were fixed on Valerie. “Two hundred million, Val. It buys you a clean slate, total control of your empire, and the freedom to marry the love of your life. It’s the perfect ending. You’re getting a steal.” “Cole…” Valerie took a step toward me, her movements frantic but hesitant, like she was approaching a wild animal. I steadied my breathing and held up a hand, stopping her in her tracks. “Let’s just rip the band-aid off.” “This was a transaction from day one. Now, the contract is up. We go our separate ways.” Before I turned toward the grand mahogany doors, I looked at the four of them one last time. “The greatest tragedy of my life wasn’t growing up poor. It was being found by the Prescotts.” If I had never been given this cursed last name, I would have stayed in that small town. I would have helped my adoptive mother run her diner. Maybe she wouldn’t have been working the late shift alone. Maybe the carbon monoxide leak wouldn’t have taken her. If I hadn’t been dragged into this gilded cage, the one person in the world who actually loved me would still be alive. When I woke up in my hotel room the next morning, my phone was bricked with notifications. 99+ missed calls. 99+ texts. “Cole, honey, I know you were just speaking out of anger.” — Helen. “Cole. I am not agreeing to a divorce. This is not a unilateral decision.” — Valerie. “Son, about the past… your mother and I are deeply sorry.” — Arthur. I scoffed at the ceiling. A slap rings loud enough to shatter glass, but they think a text message can sweep up the shards. I kept scrolling until I hit a message from Tristan. “You think walking away makes you the bigger person? Playing the tragic victim just to get her attention? Pathetic.” “If you actually think ten years of a fake marriage means you own her heart, you’re delusional.” “She told me everything last night. She only married you to use you as a human shield until it was safe for me to come back.” “You were never going to win, Cole.” I stopped breathing. She said that? Tristan’s text was a serrated blade, cutting away the last scraps of my dignity. To soothe her fragile first love, she had completely obliterated me. Everything I did yesterday, my desperate attempt to leave with my head held high—in Tristan’s eyes, I was just a dancing clown in a circus he owned. I forced my hands to stop shaking. I opened my email and forwarded the finalized divorce agreement and power of attorney to my legal team. Then, I booked the first international flight out of JFK. When I was done, I took a screenshot of Tristan’s text and sent it to Valerie. “Your taste in men is slipping, Val. And so is your subtlety.” Block. Power off. I was in the back of a black car heading to the airport when my oldest friend called me on a burner line. “Cole. Look at Twitter. Right now.” 5 I clicked the link. A high-res photo of Tristan wrapping his arms around Valerie from behind was plastered across the front page of every gossip site. #TrueLoveReturns: Heir Cole Prescott Replaced? was trending at number one. The comments were a bloodbath. “I mean, what powerful woman wouldn’t want to go back to her high school sweetheart?” “Rumor has it she slapped Cole right in front of Tristan yesterday. Tell me who the real alpha is.” “Tristan was her first love. I bet Cole orchestrated some dark twisted shit to run him out of town ten years ago.” The photo was too crisp, the angle too perfect to be a paparazzo hiding in the bushes. Someone inside that house had leaked it. I switched over to a local news livestream. A swarm of reporters had barricaded the gates of the Prescott estate. “Tristan! Why did you leave ten years ago?” “Are you back to reclaim Valerie Sinclair?” On screen, Valerie emerged from the gates. One hand firmly shielded Tristan’s face, while the other physically pushed a microphone away. She personally escorted him into the back of her Maybach, guarding him like he was made of spun glass, terrified the world might crack him. I locked my phone and threw it onto the leather seat. Breathe in. Breathe out. Do not cry. Crying just gives the vultures better lighting. The second I stepped out at the departures curb, I made a beeline for the VIP security checkpoint. But a voice pierced the chaos. “There he is! That’s Cole Prescott!” It was an ambush. A tidal wave of bodies, cameras, and microphones crashed over me. “Mr. Prescott! How does it feel to be publicly discarded?” “Is it true Tristan is the real heir and you’re the fraud?” “Are you running away because you’re scared of a fight?” Without Valerie’s private security to shield me, the press turned feral. “Back off!” I yelled, pushing my suitcase forward like a battering ram. They didn’t budge. “Mr. Prescott, sources say you used blackmail to force Tristan out ten years ago so you could marry into the Sinclair fortune. Care to comment?” My eyes went wild. I glared at the reporter holding a mic to my chin. “That is defamatory garbage, and I will sue you for everything you own!” “Touched a nerve, Mr. Prescott? Is the guilt getting to you?” another shouted, fanning the flames. “What’s your strategy now that the real golden boy is back?” A hundred mouths. A hundred knives plunging straight into my chest. The flashes strobed, blinding me, waiting for me to crack, waiting for the money shot. I didn’t know how to fight this. The family that was supposed to protect me was currently playing bodyguard for the man who ruined my life. I gritted my teeth, shoving blindly toward the sliding glass doors, shouting for airport security. Travelers stopped, pulling out their phones, pointing and whispering. “Is that the guy whose billionaire wife is cheating on him with his brother?” “Look at him run. You marry for money, you get thrown out with the trash. What did he expect?” Suddenly, someone in the crush shoved me hard from behind. My ankle gave out. I lost my center of gravity and went down hard. My palms hit the concrete, ripping the skin, and I landed squarely on my knees in front of thirty rolling cameras. In that split second, a decade of degradation, grief, and unadulterated rage clawed up my throat. I knew exactly what the headlines would say in an hour. Trophy Husband Begs on His Knees. A single, heavy tear broke free, splashing onto the gray pavement. I swiped it away instantly. I pushed myself up, brushing off my suit with agonizing slowness, acting as if I had just tripped over my own shoelaces. They had their photo. The mob backed off slightly. My ankle screamed with every step, but I lifted my chin, squared my shoulders, and walked through the terminal doors like absolute royalty. “May we never cross paths again, Valerie Sinclair.”

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