Category: English

Seven years ago, Carter and I broke up because we were from two completely different worlds. Seven years later, I’m a corporate executive pulling in a million dollars a year. And Carter? After a devastating bankruptcy, he’s reduced to delivering takeout. Looking at the incredibly handsome man standing in front of me, I casually slid a bank card across the table. “Ten thousand a month. I’m keeping you.” Looking thoroughly humiliated, Carter pocketed the card. The day after he moved into my penthouse, I accidentally overheard him on the phone: “I’m too busy. Don’t bother me with a tiny fifty-million-dollar project.” 1 I never expected my reunion with Carter Hayes to be this dramatic. “Your delivery, ma’am.” Carter was holding the paper bag with one hand, the impatient look on his face slowly fading. He narrowed his eyes, looking me up and down a few times before asking in disbelief, “Chloe?” I stared up at him, completely stunned. Seven years later, and he was still drop-dead gorgeous. Somehow, he made that bright neon delivery jacket look like a piece of high-end runway couture on his broad shoulders and long legs. Earlier this year, I heard some college alumni gossiping that Carter’s family had gone bankrupt. I hadn’t paid much attention to it at the time. A starving camel is still bigger than a horse, as they say. No matter how bad things got for the Hayes family, they’d still be miles ahead of normal people like us. It wasn’t my place to pity him. But I never imagined he’d be reduced to delivering food. He graduated from an Ivy League school. He had the face of a supermodel. He could get any job in the world—so why this? Carter, how have you been all these years? Are you married? Do you have kids? A thousand questions swirled in my head, but what actually came out of my mouth was: “You’re late.” Carter froze, then let out a soft laugh, his eyes curving into familiar crescents. “Chloe Adams. It’s been years, and you’re still as ruthless as ever.” I just looked at him in silence. I got it. I understood completely. The golden boy had fallen from grace, only to be caught at his absolute lowest by his ex-girlfriend. Aside from using humor to deflect the crushing awkwardness, what else could he do? 2 “You have an order running late. Please deliver immediately.” The automated voice from the phone clipped to his chest shattered my thoughts. Frowning, he pulled out his phone and ruthlessly powered it off. I was shocked by his reckless indifference. “I heard you get penalized for late deliveries. You’re going to lose a lot of money doing that. How are you going to feed your wife and kids?” Carter casually shoved the phone into his pocket. “I only have to feed myself. Nobody else is starving.” Oh. So he was still single. My eyes slowly drifted down from his face, eventually landing on his stomach. After all these years, were those abs still as perfectly sculpted as before? Last month, I went to a holistic wellness clinic because my hormones were a wreck. The doctor told me I needed a boyfriend. He said my stress levels were through the roof from being single too long. He told me that if I couldn’t find a man, I should at least spend time looking at handsome guys to boost my serotonin. Well, look what the universe dragged in. “Chloe, you’re drooling.” I panicked and scrubbed at the corner of my mouth with my sleeve, only to realize he was messing with me. Watching my flustered, embarrassed reaction, his chest rumbled with laughter until tears literally formed in his eyes. “Chloe, you’re adorable.” Adorable? Adorable my foot! Humiliation flared into anger, and suddenly, all the bitter memories of our toxic breakup came rushing back. 3 Carter and I were college sweethearts. He kept a low profile on campus. He never flashed his wealth. It wasn’t until right before graduation that I realized his family was astronomically rich. He had invited me to his family’s estate for dinner. I had spent months of my internship salary to buy what I thought were thoughtful, premium gifts. His mother took one look, tossed them to the housekeeper, and sneered that not even their staff would eat such low-grade trash. She told the maid to donate it to some poor relatives in the country. Then, Carter’s sister pulled out a photograph and informed me that their family was arranging a marriage for him. In two months, the gorgeous heiress in the photo would be his fiancée. “Don’t worry, my brother is very generous,” his sister had smirked. “He’ll give you a nice little severance package before he dumps you.” I was young back then. I had nothing to my name except my fragile pride and self-esteem. By the time Carter chased me out the door, I was already gone. I blocked his number and deleted him from my life. After the breakup, I went through the darkest period of my life. My best friend couldn’t stand seeing me cry every day, so she went to confront Carter. But he was ice-cold. He told her he had misjudged me. That killed whatever hope I had left. I poured every ounce of my soul into my career. Men will betray you, but work won’t. The time and energy you put into your career always pays off. Case in point: my life right now. Remembering how his family humiliated me made my blood boil. Anger fueled my audacity. I turned around, marched into my apartment, and grabbed a pristine black card from my designer bag. I held it out to him, my chin raised in absolute arrogance. “Carter, running deliveries all day probably barely pays the rent, right?” “Why don’t you work for me? I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars a month. What do you say?” 4 Carter didn’t say a word. He just stared at my manicured fingers holding the card. Just as my arm was starting to ache, he lowered his head and gave a response so soft I almost missed it. “Okay.” Seeing him look so defeated, so fragile—like a broken piece of glass—made my own heart crack a little. Ten thousand! That was ten thousand dollars a month! I only wanted to insult him! Why did he agree?! Wasn’t he supposed to slap the card away, quote some alpha-male movie line about earning his way back to the top, and storm off?! God knows what I sacrificed to hit a million-dollar salary. And that was before taxes. After the IRS, 401k, and insurance took their cut, I was taking home maybe fifty thousand a month. Giving him ten grand was a massive hit! My fingers were trembling slightly. Carter tried to slide the card from my grip, failing three times because I was holding on so tight. “Chloe, do you actually not have the money?” He looked amused, the corners of his perfectly sculpted lips curling into a mocking smirk. I really wanted to admit I was just trying to flex. But my ego absolutely refused. I let go of the card and tossed my hair over my shoulder. “Do a good job. If you serve me well, I’ll double your salary.” Carter walked away with my card, wearing the most complicated expression I had ever seen. He didn’t just take my card. He took my peace of mind. I made a vow. No matter how well he performed, I was going to find a flaw. In exactly one month, I would fire him for “poor service.” That way, I only lose ten grand. Yeah, that’s manageable. Not too bad. 5 “Where is he?!” “Where are you hiding him?!” My best friend, Zoe, burst into my apartment wearing fuzzy pajama pants, her hair a bird’s nest, and a sheet mask still plastered to her face. I put my phone down and rolled my eyes. “You got here fast.” I had literally texted her about Carter five minutes ago. She lived across town. It was a twenty-minute drive with zero traffic. “Stop stalling, where’s the eye candy?!” “He left. He’s moving in tomorrow night.” Zoe hopped over to me like an overcaffeinated bunny and wiggled her eyebrows. “So, how are you going to humiliate him? Handcuffs? Whips? Blindfolds?” “Maybe a French maid outfit for men?” A male maid outfit? What did that even look like? Just a tiny apron over an eight-pack of abs? Picturing Carter’s normally cold, untouchable face while wearing nothing but a frilly apron made my entire body flush. A sudden, familiar cramp hit my lower stomach. I shoved Zoe’s masked face away and sprinted for the bathroom. A long moment later, I groaned from behind the door. “Zoe… I got my period.” “I don’t think I have any tampons left, can you run to the drugstore?” Zoe poked her head into the doorway, her eyes wide with awe. “Oh my god.” “If I recall correctly, your stress was so bad you haven’t had a period in two months, right?” “The doctors couldn’t fix your hormones, but one look at Carter Hayes and the dam breaks?! Wild!” I grabbed a roll of toilet paper and lobbed it at her head. “Get out!” 6 The doorbell woke me up at the crack of dawn. I stood at the door in my oversized t-shirt, staring dumbfounded at a row of massive luxury suitcases. Carter raised an eyebrow and flashed me a dazzling smile. “Good morning, sugar mama.” I grabbed his wrist, staring in horror at the incredibly expensive Patek Philippe on his arm. “It’s six in the morning, dude!” “This watch is a fake, a really good replica—” We spoke at the exact same time. Carter pulled his wrist back, smoothly took off the watch, and stuffed it into his pocket. “Didn’t you say my salary would double if I performed well? I’m just showing initiative.” Despicable! Using my own words against me! Carter pushed his luggage inside and casually strolled straight into my master bedroom. When I realized he was about to start hanging his clothes in my closet, I lunged forward. “What do you think you’re doing?” He blinked at me, the picture of innocence. “Didn’t you say I was supposed to serve you?” “If we don’t sleep in the same bed, how am I supposed to serve you?” He leaned down and whispered those last few words right in my ear, his voice dropping an octave into a gravelly purr. “Y-You—” My face burned. I couldn’t believe how low he had sunk. To make a quick buck, he was actually trying to seduce me! Life must have been incredibly hard on him these past few years. The untouchable prince finally learned the value of a dollar. “Your room is down the hall. I prefer sleeping alone.” Carter grabbed his suitcases and walked away, his broad back looking distinctly disappointed. Disappointed? I’m definitely overthinking this. 7 Carter was very self-aware. He unpacked his things and immediately went to the kitchen to make breakfast. Leaning against the doorframe, watching his broad shoulders move around the kitchen, four words popped into my head: Peace and quiet. For years, I had been married to my job, working insane overtime hours. Whenever I came home, the apartment always felt cold and sterile. Sometimes, when I was dead on my feet, I’d fantasize about coming home to someone having a hot meal waiting for me. I didn’t expect to achieve that dream so quickly. Even if the price tag was a bit steep. Thinking about that $10,000 monthly retainer made my heart bleed. I made up my mind: No matter how good the food was, I was going to tell him it tasted like garbage! “Stop staring at me and go wash your face.” Carter stepped out of the kitchen and nudged me toward the bathroom. “Wait, I think I smell something burning.” He grabbed my chin, gently turning my head forward, his expression deadpan. “That’s just your imagination.” It was definitely my imagination. When I came out dressed for work, I stared in shock at the absolute feast spread across my dining table. Perfectly poached eggs benedict, thick-cut bacon, fluffy buttermilk pancakes, avocado toast with microgreens, fresh fruit parfaits, and steaming artisan coffee. A five-star hotel buffet couldn’t compete with this. “Y-You made all this?” He nodded, pulling out a chair for me like a gentleman. “Taste it.” I took a bite of the eggs benedict. The hollandaise was incredibly rich, the egg yolk perfectly runny, and the English muffin toasted to a crisp perfection. One word: Divine! “It’s alright. A bit basic, but it’s edible.” 8 The light in Carter’s eyes died. He lowered his gaze, looking genuinely hurt, his voice soft. “Really? I guess I need to work harder.” I aggressively shoved a pancake into my mouth so I wouldn’t accidentally blurt out a compliment to comfort him. Ten thousand dollars! Hold the line, Chloe! Usually, my appetite was nonexistent during this time of the month. But the food was so good I ate until I was stuffed, patting my stomach happily as I grabbed my purse for work. Before I left, I made sure to order him to deep-clean the apartment. This is what happens when you grow up poor. You starve yourself before a buffet to get your money’s worth. If I was paying for a kept man, he was going to be my chef, maid, driver, bodyguard, and eye candy combined. Every penny had to be maximized! Carter nodded obediently, walking me to the door like he didn’t want me to leave. “Come home early, Chloe. I’ll be waiting for you.” He sounded like a devoted 1950s housewife. I practically skipped to the elevator, feeling energized for the workday. Just as the doors opened, I patted my pocket and realized I left my phone on the counter. I hurried back, pushed the front door open, and heard Carter on a phone call. “I’m too busy. Don’t bother me with a tiny fifty-million-dollar project.” He opened the door wider as he spoke, catching me mid-snoop, my ear practically pressed against the air. We locked eyes. The silence was deafening. To break the awkwardness, I decided to go on the offensive. “Ooooh, a tiny fifty-million-dollar project! Big shot!” Carter slowly lowered his phone, looking at me with an expression that screamed ‘I don’t even know where to begin.’ I snatched my phone off the entryway table and waved at him. “Off to work! Bye, Mr. Fifty Million!” I guess when rich people go broke, they cope by playing pretend. Zoe and I used to play the same game when we were broke college kids. Thinking about Carter’s flustered face put me in an amazing mood.

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My younger sister, Tiffany, moved to the city to “find herself,” but all she’s found so far is reasons to complain about my apartment. To her, my cozy one-bedroom in a decent zip code is a “cramped, pathetic dump.” I tried to be the good sister. I cleared out my guest closet and bought an expandable room divider to give her some privacy. Her gratitude? She went straight to the family group chat and started a wildfire of lies, telling everyone I was being kept by a “sugar daddy” and that I only lived in this “shithole” because he’d dumped me. This afternoon, I was out on the balcony taking down my laundry. In the penthouse unit of the adjacent building—a glass-and-steel monolith that housed the city’s elite—Dominic Thorne was finishing a workout on his private terrace. He’s the crown prince of the Thorne Group, a man worth eleven figures, and as he wiped sweat from his brow, his gaze drifted momentarily toward our building. Tiffany leaned against the doorframe, watching him, then rolled her eyes at me with a sneer. “With those wrinkles and that tired look, you aren’t even fit to shine his shoes,” she said, her voice dripping with venom. “Don’t tell me you actually think a man like that would look at someone like you.” She got louder, feeding off her own cruelty, pointing a manicured finger toward the penthouse. “What, are you going to tell me he’s here for you? That the city’s most eligible bachelor is your secret husband?” She laughed, a shrill, mocking sound. “If you have the guts to walk over there and call him ‘husband,’ I’ll get down on my knees and bow to you right now. But we both know the truth—his security would toss you out like the trash you are. You’re just a smudge on his view.” She didn’t know about the Rumor-Manifestation System. It was a strange, silent pulse in the back of my mind. If a rumor is repeated ninety-nine times, I can choose to make it reality. I listened as the mechanical chime echoed in my head: [Rumor count reached: 99. Activation ready.] I turned my head and looked at the man across the way—the man whose net worth could buy my entire life a thousand times over. Since you insist he’s my husband, Tiffany, I think I’ll take you up on that fortune. … I stared at Dominic as he draped a towel over his neck. “What are you gawking at? Put those thirsty eyes away,” Tiffany snapped. She was holding my favorite silk blouse—the one I’d painstakingly steamed for my interview tomorrow. Before I could stop her, she crumpled it into a ball and used it to wipe the dust off the balcony railing. “Look at yourself,” she scoffed, tossing the ruined silk onto the floor and grinding her heel into it. “You’re thirty, single, and pathetic. You aren’t in his league. You aren’t even in the same universe.” I clenched my fists. “Tiffany, that was for my interview.” “Oh, please. It’s a cheap rag.” She pulled out her phone, the camera lens glowing red. “Hey guys, look at this! Here’s my ‘successful’ big sister in the city. Living in a thirty-square-meter shoebox, thirsting after the billionaire next door while she won’t even buy her own sister a decent outfit!” She made a face at the screen, her eyes sparkling with malice. “You should have seen the way she looked at him just now. Like she wanted to eat him alive. Honestly, Claire, you’re an embarrassment to the family.” The comments began scrolling wildly on her livestream. A second later, my phone buzzed. It was a voice note from our mother in the family chat. “Claire! Have you no shame? I told you to take care of your sister, and this is how you treat her? Tiffany just graduated! You have her living in a kennel while you spend your time chasing rich men? Don’t you dare ruin her reputation with your filth!” Then came another, longer message. “I heard from Tiffany that a big-shot CEO lives next door. Don’t you start getting ideas, you hear me? I know your type. Last month, Mrs. Gable said she saw you getting out of a luxury car. I knew you were up to no good! You clear out of that apartment and make room. Tiffany’s boyfriend is coming to visit in two days. He’s from a real wealthy family, a proper heir—he can’t stay in that dump. Give them the master bedroom. You can sleep on the balcony or go live in your office for all I care!” A familiar ache tightened in my chest. Since we were kids, I only got what Tiffany didn’t want. I worked my way to the city, built a life, and yet, they still followed me like a shadow, ready to dim my light. “You hear that?” Tiffany smirked, waving her phone. “Mom wants you out. My boyfriend, Rico, is actually a close friend of Dominic Thorne. He’s used to the best. If you’re smart, you’ll pack your bags before I throw them out the window.” I stared at her, my nails digging into my palms. “I pay the rent here, Tiffany. Every cent.” “So? Your money is Mom and Dad’s money. You’re just a liability. They should have sold you off for a dowry years ago.” Tiffany’s eyes darted back to the penthouse terrace. “What? You still thinking he’s coming for you? Your ‘secret husband’?” She shouted it toward the open air. “If you go over there and he actually knows your name, I’ll kiss your feet! But let’s be real—you’re nothing but a stain on his sidewalk!” [Ding! Detection: The rumor ‘The Billionaire is my husband’ has reached 99 counts.] [System fully charged. Host may manifest this rumor at any time.] The tension in my shoulders suddenly evaporated. I looked at the neighboring balcony. Dominic was frowning now, looking toward the noise. If they wanted him to be my husband so badly, I was happy to oblige. But not yet. I wanted them to feel the full weight of their own trap before I sprung it. I felt a ghost of a smile touch my lips. “Go ahead and post whatever you want, Tiffany,” I said quietly, turning back toward the living room. “Just make sure you’re ready for the consequences.” “What’s that supposed to mean? You think you’re a threat?” Tiffany followed me in, her voice rising. “I’m warning you, Claire. If you aren’t out by tomorrow, I’m taking those pathetic diaries I found—the ones where you obsess over the CEO—and I’m posting them all over the neighborhood. I’ll make sure you can never show your face in this city again!” The diaries were fakes she’d mocked up yesterday. “Post them,” I said, looking her dead in the eye. “I dare you.” The next morning, my suitcases were sitting in the hallway. A piece of paper was taped to my own front door, written in thick, black marker: BEWARE OF THE SOCIAL CLIMBER. HER NAME IS CLAIRE. The door code had been changed. Inside, I could hear music playing and the smell of expensive takeout. I stood there for a moment, remarkably calm. Then, I pressed the doorbell. It took a long time for the door to crack open. A cloud of cigarette smoke and the smell of cheap grease hit me. A man stood there, wearing my brand-new silk robe—the one I hadn’t even taken the tags off yet. There were stains on the collar, and he was picking his teeth with a distracted air. “Who’s this?” He blew a whistle, his eyes roaming over me. “Oh, the big sister? You’re a lot cuter than Tiffany described.” “Move,” I said. “Hey, don’t be like that.” He reached out to grab my arm. “Tiffany’s inside making lunch. Why don’t you come in and have a drink with Rico? I can introduce you to some real players, way better than that stiff in the penthouse.” I stepped around him and walked into my own living room. It looked like a crime scene. Cigarette butts were crushed into my white rug. Red wine was splashed on the cushions. Tiffany was sitting on the coffee table, scrolling through her phone. “Claire? You actually came back?” Tiffany laughed, gesturing to the man. “Meet Rico. He’s a big deal in the city’s inner circle. Best friends with Thorne next door.” Rico puffed out his chest, adjusting the robe that was two sizes too small for him. “Stay humble, babe. I mean, yeah, Dominic and I grab drinks, play some golf. It’s whatever.” I almost laughed. “This is why you broke into my home? To turn it into a frat house?” I pointed at the door. “Get out. Both of you.” Smash. Tiffany dropped a wine bottle. “Who are you telling to get out? Mom said this place is my dowry. If you don’t like it, call the cops! See if they care about a ‘family matter’!” She wrapped her arms around Rico’s neck. “Babe, look at her. She’s just jealous that I found a real man. She’s bitter because she’s alone.” Rico glared at me. “Listen, lady. Tiffany’s carrying my kid. You stress her out, and you’re dealing with me.” I looked at Tiffany’s stomach and felt a cold, sharp satisfaction. “Fine,” I said, pulling out my phone and snapping a photo of the mess. Before I could dial, my phone rang. It was my mother. “Claire! You ungrateful brat!” her voice wailed through the speaker. “If you report your sister to the police, I’ll come down there and hang myself in front of your office! I’ll tell the whole world you’re a monster who tried to kill her own mother!” “Mom, he’s a thug. He’s trashing my home.” “Shut up! He’s an heir! Rico said he’s buying Tiffany a villa! You’re just jealous! If you ruin this for her, I will never forgive you!” The line went dead. I looked at the two of them. The last thread of familial obligation finally snapped. “Fine,” I said, putting my phone away. “Stay here then.” I turned to leave. “Wait! Where do you think you’re going?” Tiffany called out. “Go to the drugstore and get me some vitamins. And Rico’s hungry—get some lobster and peel it for him. Don’t let him get his hands dirty.” Rico laughed, sliding his hand under her shirt. I picked up my bag. “Sure. I’ll get right on that.” Downstairs in the lobby, I saw Dominic’s concierge. He looked at me for a moment, recognizing me from the building next door, but I kept my head down and walked out. A group of neighborhood women were whispering as I passed. “Is that her? The one Tiffany posted about?” “Yeah, the one who’s obsessed with the billionaire. Apparently, she knocks on his door every night.” “I saw the photos in the residents’ chat. She looks so normal, but I guess you never know who the real crazies are.” I stopped and opened my phone. The neighborhood WhatsApp group was blowing up. Tiffany had used a burner account to post photos of me in my pajamas, taken from behind. The lonely spinster in Building 8 was at it again last night, rubbing up against the CEO’s door handle. So pathetic! The comments were brutal. My hands shook, but not from fear. From the sheer, icy heat of my rage. Tiffany, you want to play a high-stakes game? Let’s play. I spent the night in a cheap motel and went to the office the next morning. The atmosphere was different the moment I walked in. The receptionist looked away. The laughter in the breakroom died down as soon as I entered. I’d barely sat down when the HR assistant appeared. “Claire, the CEO wants to see you.” Her eyes were full of disgust. In the office, a stack of photos was thrown onto the desk. “Explain this,” my boss barked. I picked them up. They were poorly photoshopped, but effective—my face spliced onto bodies in compromising positions, in clubs, and in scenes meant to suggest I was an escort. The anonymous email sent to the company had a familiar tone: Your executive, Claire, is a high-end call girl by night. Here’s the price list… “Sir, this is a smear campaign. I can prove—” “I don’t care!” he snapped. “The board is already breathing down my neck. You’re on administrative leave, effective immediately. If this turns out to be true, don’t bother coming back.” I packed my desk into a single box. As I walked out into the plaza, a bucket of red paint splashed across my front. “Look! There she is! The gold-digger!” Tiffany was standing there with a megaphone. Rico was beside her, livestreaming. “This is my sister! She tried to steal my boyfriend, she owes thousands to loan sharks, and now she’s trying to sell me off to pay her debts! Help me!” Tiffany wailed for the camera. A crowd gathered. Phones were everywhere. “She’d do that to her own sister?” “She looks so professional, what a snake.” “Trash!” Someone threw a water bottle at me. I wiped the stinging paint from my eyes. Rico shoved his phone in my face. “Look at her, guys! This is what happens when you get fired for being a slut! Follow Tiffany for more updates. Let’s make this bitch famous!” The comments were a sea of death threats. Tiffany looked at me over the megaphone. For a split second, the “victim” mask slipped, and she gave me a sharp, triumphant grin. “Claire, just admit you were wrong! Tell everyone you’re sorry, and maybe Mom will take you back!” I looked at her. I looked at the mob. [Detection: Social rumor threshold almost reached.] [Current count: 98/99.] One more. I took out my own phone, snapped a photo of Tiffany and Rico in their moment of glory, and walked away without a word. “Yeah, run away! Coward!” Tiffany screamed. The price for this, Tiffany, is higher than you can afford. Three days later, my mother called. “Get over here, you brat! Rico got us VIP passes to a gala hosted by that Dominic Thorne fellow. We’re going to the penthouse tonight to see how the other half lives! You’re coming along to wait on us. Don’t embarrass us!” A gala? At Dominic’s? I looked at myself in the mirror. “I’ll be there,” I whispered. At 7:00 PM, I arrived at the gates of the Thorne Estate. The driveway was a parade of Ferraris and Rolls-Royces. Tiffany, Rico, and my parents were arguing with the security guards at the entrance. “Don’t you know who I am?” Rico was shouting, his rented suit bunching at the shoulders. “I’m Dominic’s best friend! These are my in-laws!” The guard was unmoved. “Invitation, please.” “I told you, I forgot it! Just look at my face!” Tiffany saw me and ran over, grabbing my arm. “Tell the guard you’re the cleaning lady! Get us inside or I’ll tell everyone you’ve got a disease!” I looked at the wealthy guests staring at the scene, and I smiled. “Sure.” I walked up to the guard. Before I could speak, a man in a sharp tuxedo—Dominic’s personal butler—stepped forward. He looked at me, then at the loud, tacky group behind me. He stepped aside and bowed. Tiffany, assuming it was Rico’s influence, grabbed Rico’s arm and strutted inside. “See? That’s what I’m talking about! Status!” Once inside the ballroom, my family was a disaster. My mother was stuffing lobster tails into her handbag. My father was trying to toast people with empty glasses. Tiffany was frantic, taking selfies against the gold-leaf pillars. “Wait, isn’t that the escort who got fired?” a voice called out. It was one of Tiffany’s “influencer” friends. The room went quiet. Tiffany, sensing the shift, suddenly shoved me into the center of the floor. “I’m so sorry, everyone! My sister forced us to come! She told us she was Mr. Thorne’s secret mistress! She said she owned this place and told us to come in!” Tiffany shouted, her voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. “I knew she was lying! A piece of trash like her doesn’t even know a man like Dominic!” The whispers turned into an ugly roar. “Is she the one from the news?” “How dare she use Mr. Thorne’s name?” “Where’s security?” Rico jumped in, pointing a finger at me. “Yeah! This crazy woman lured us here! Dominic, man, come down here and deal with this stalker!” On the grand staircase, Dominic Thorne appeared. He was the picture of cold, distant power. Tiffany ran to the foot of the stairs. “Mr. Thorne! This woman has been obsessing over you for months! She’s been telling everyone she’s your fiancée! It’s disgusting! Throw her out!” Everyone was looking at me. My mother stepped forward and slapped me across the face. The sound rang through the hall. “You shameless girl! Kneel down and apologize! Do you want to ruin us all?” She then turned to Dominic with a sickeningly sweet smile. “Mr. Thorne, please don’t be angry. She’s nothing to us. We disown her! Do whatever you want with her!” I touched my cheek, tasting blood. I looked at the greed in their eyes, the malice in Tiffany’s, and the cold stillness of the man on the stairs. “Here he comes,” Tiffany hissed. “He’s going to personally crush you, Claire. You’re dead.” Dominic descended the stairs, his handmade oxfords clicking on the marble. I waited. [Ding! Detection: The rumor count has reached 100.] [Activation condition met. Manifest the rumor: ‘The Billionaire is my fiancé’?] In the silence of my heart, I whispered: Yes. Dominic stopped in front of me. “Mr. Thorne, give the word and I’ll toss her out myself—” Rico started. Dominic ignored him. He reached out, his hand gentle as he wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth. A look of profound, aching tenderness crossed his face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, loud enough for the whole room to hear. “I’m so sorry I’m late.”

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At the International Hospitality Summit, I accidentally drenched the heir to the Harrington empire in red wine. The room went deathly silent. My director looked like he was about to suffer a stroke, ready to fire me on the spot to appease the gods of old money. But Brooks Harrington simply wiped the crimson liquid from his face with a linen napkin. His eyes were cold, his expression unreadable, as he turned to the summit coordinator. “Her hands are unsteady,” he said, his voice a low, commanding rasp. “Don’t make her carry heavy things in the future.” The crowd gasped. The tension in the room didn’t break; it curdled. As soon as the session adjourned, my colleagues cornered me in the plaza, their faces etched with frantic curiosity. “That was Brooks Harrington. What the hell is your history with him?” At the elevator bank, Brooks paused. He turned back, his gaze lingering—uncomfortably, intentionally—tracing the line of my chest before meeting my eyes. I didn’t flinch. My voice was as steady as a surgeon’s. “I don’t know the man.” After all, three years ago, when Brooks Harrington publicly dismantled my career and burned every bridge I had, he told me he never wanted to see my face in any social circle in Manhattan again. In that moment, I saw his knuckles turn white as his grip tightened on the elevator door. 1 The elevator doors hissed shut, finally severing that suffocating gaze. I brushed past the gaggle of whispering peers and headed straight for the restroom to scrub the wine stains from my hem. Denying I knew Brooks was my only move. It was a public slap in the face, a calculated insult to a man who breathed ego. A storm three years ago had taught me everything I needed to know: to people like him, the dignity of someone like me is cheaper than the rainwater in a gutter. When he cut off my professional oxygen, he claimed I had tried to use his connections to leak the Harrington Group’s private audit files. That stigma—of being a corporate traitor and a social climber—made me a pariah. Coming back to the city and joining Blackwell & Co. was a gamble with my life. Blackwell was the only firm with enough teeth to challenge the Harringtons. I’d walked into the CEO’s office and demanded a seven-figure salary, using my courage as collateral. It wasn’t just a job offer. It was a ticket to the war. When I stepped out of the hotel, the early autumn breeze bit through the lingering heat of the alcohol. Brooks’ signature black sedan was idling under a streetlamp, like a predator waiting in the brush. He pushed the door open, stepping into the wind to block my path. “Rowan Miller. Who gave you permission to come back?” His voice was colder than I remembered, saturated with the habitual authority of a man who owned the horizon. “Mr. Harrington, the public street isn’t Harrington property,” I said, swinging my bag, the weight of my new contract grounding me. “I don’t need to report my career moves to you.” He glanced at the leather portfolio in my hand—the future he had tried so hard to incinerate. A flicker of genuine malice crossed his eyes. “Whatever Blackwell is paying you, I’ll double it. Get out of New York. Tonight.” “Three years ago, that tactic worked because I was just ‘Brooks Harrington’s girlfriend,’” I replied, stepping closer until I could smell the expensive tobacco and sea-salt air on his skin. “Now, I’m a Senior Auditor for Blackwell. Try me again.” I pulled out my phone and dialed 911 right in front of him. The charge? A man was illegally restricting my movement in a public space. Brooks clearly hadn’t expected me to go nuclear. He stood frozen, the shock on his face more satisfying than any apology could have been. By the time the sirens echoed down the block, the remaining summit attendees were staring. Brooks Harrington, the golden boy of the Upper East Side, was forced to step aside as the police arrived to “assist with an investigation.” As I pulled away in a cab, I saw him looking at me through the window of his car. His expression wasn’t just anger anymore. It was disbelief. 2 I watched him fade into the distance, feeling a surge of adrenaline that felt remarkably like a head start. A text vibrated in my palm. It was Blackwell. First assignment ready. Office at 8 AM. The target was clear: Harrington’s core subsidiary, the crown jewel of Brooks’ private portfolio. By noon on my first day, the news that I was auditing the Harringtons had spread through the industry like a virus. Brooks had spent the night dealing with the police, and his first act upon release was to file a formal complaint with the Board of Accountancy. He alleged “severe ethical deficiencies” based on our history, attempting to blacklist me once again. The emergency hearing was convened within forty-eight hours. The Harringtons and their allies, the Scotts, had pulled every string. I sat in the marble-lined board room, across from a smirking Madeline Scott. Maddie, the heiress to a retail empire and Brooks’ perennial “plus-one,” was playing the role of the victim for the committee. “Rowan didn’t just breach confidentiality three years ago,” Maddie said, her voice trembling with practiced grace. “She tried to extort my family when she was caught.” The old-guard board members frowned. In auditing, a character smear is a death sentence. Brooks sat in the very back row, watching me with the smug patience of a man waiting for a stray dog to finally stop barking and beg. “Ms. Miller,” the chairman said. “Do you have a defense?” “A defense would imply I’m guilty,” I said, standing up. “I have evidence.” I reached into my briefcase and pulled out a notarized file from three years ago—a digital preservation of the original audit trail. The room went silent as I projected the files. It wasn’t just my work; it was the raw data showing the Scott family’s systematic tax fraud. Maddie’s face turned ashen. She shrieked that the files were forged, but the forensic timestamps were undeniable. I turned my gaze to Brooks. His expression had shifted from amusement to a deep, harrowing gravity. “Three years ago, you told the world I stole secrets,” I said, my voice echoing. “The truth is, your secrets couldn’t stand the light. Mr. Harrington, did you bury me to protect Madeline, or to hide your own stake in her family’s fraud?” Brooks’ face was like granite. His grip on his fountain pen was so tight I thought it would snap. He didn’t say a word. He couldn’t. Any defense of the Scotts now would link the Harrington name to a massive federal scandal. Maddie tried to lung at me after the session was adjourned, but security intercepted her. Brooks walked past the chaos, his eyes fixed on me. For the first time, I saw something other than arrogance in them. I saw fear. And something else… something darker. “You kept that file for three years,” he whispered as we crossed paths in the hall. “You chose to starve rather than use it?” “I kept it because I needed to wait for the moment when it would hurt you the most,” I replied. “I wanted you to know what it feels like to have no way out.” 3 I walked out into the sunset, the marble floors of the hall reflecting a cold, pale light. On my way home, I received an anonymous text. Just an image. It was a hospital billing record from three years ago. The Intensive Care Unit. At the bottom, in the “Paid By” column, was a name I never expected to see. Brooks Harrington. Five million dollars. The total cost of my younger brother’s life-saving heart surgery. Three years ago, I had knelt outside Brooks’ office in the pouring rain, begging for a loan. He never showed his face. I thought he had left me to watch my brother die. I stood on the sidewalk in the middle of the night, the phone trembling in my hand. A cold shiver raced up my spine. Right on cue, my phone rang. Brooks. “I paid the bill, Rowan,” he said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. “You owe me more than just three years of your life.” I felt a wave of nausea. “So what? You want a ‘Good Samaritan’ trophy? You cut off my legs and then handed me a pair of crutches?” “I wanted you to realize that without me, you have nothing. You are nothing.” His words were a dull knife, sawing away at the remnants of my self-respect. He thought that by buying my brother’s life, he had bought my soul. He thought he could keep me on a shelf like a trophy he’d reclaimed. The next morning, I went to the bank. I took out my title to the only property I owned—my grandmother’s cottage—and emptied every cent of my savings. I listed the house for a fire sale, half-price, cash only, closing within the hour. By 2 PM, I walked into Brooks’ penthouse office without an appointment. He was sitting with Maddie, discussing a press release about their “upcoming nuptials.” They both froze when I entered. “Mr. Harrington,” I said, my voice brittle. “Consider the debt settled. Principal plus interest.” I slammed a cashier’s check onto his marble desk. Five million plus three years of compounded interest. Every cent. Brooks looked at the check, and his face went whiter than the paper it was printed on. 4 “Rowan, don’t be a fool,” he hissed. “What do you have left? You’re throwing away your entire future for a gesture.” “I can earn a future,” I snapped. “But I don’t want a single drop of Harrington blood on my hands.” I grabbed a stack of decorative bills from his desk—petty cash for the office—and shredded them in front of Maddie, letting the scraps fall like a mockery of confetti. Maddie screamed at me to get out, but Brooks suddenly stood up, knocking over his coffee. The dark liquid pooled across the desk, soaking into the five-million-dollar check. “You’d really sell your house?” Brooks asked, his voice shaking. “You’d rather sleep on the street than look at me?” “I’d rather sleep in the dirt than owe you a single breath, Brooks. You lost the moment you decided to play god with my life.” I walked out of the Harrington Building, and for the first time in three years, the air felt clean. Brooks chased me to the elevator. He grabbed my wrist, his grip bruising. “If you pay the money back, it’s over, Rowan. We’re done. Truly done.” “I’m counting on it,” I said, wrenching my arm away. “From now on, we talk about audits. Never about us.” I left him standing there, the picture of defeat, but as I walked away, my chest felt hollow. The game was only halfway over. Blackwell was waiting for the final blow—the master file that would dismantle the Harrington foundation. The rumor of that “Master File” hit the black market like a bomb. It was the Holy Grail of the financial world. When Blackwell took me to the private auction where the file’s location was to be sold, I saw Brooks again. He was sitting with Maddie, but they were arguing, their faces tight with stress. This wasn’t just an auction; it was the last stand for the Harrington-Scott reputation. “Get that file, Rowan, and you’re a Senior Partner,” Blackwell whispered in my ear. His ambition was naked, predatory. The bidding started, and the atmosphere became electric. Brooks was bidding recklessly, raising the price by tens of millions at a time. Maddie looked frantic. Suddenly, the fire sprinklers in the ceiling shattered. Ice-cold water surged into the room. The lights flickered and died. Chaos erupted. People were screaming, scrambling for the exits. I lunged for the safe where the drive was kept, but someone shoved me. I tumbled into the ornamental reflecting pool in the center of the hall. The freezing water shocked my system. Beneath the surface, I saw a figure swimming toward the safe. Brooks. He found me in the dark. He grabbed my hand, and I felt him heave me toward the surface, toward air. But with his other hand, I saw him slide a USB drive into the safe’s lock. A swap. I pretended to struggle, using the moment he was “saving” me to reach into his jacket and snatch the drive he had just pulled out. The real file wasn’t in the safe. It had been hidden in the casing of the fountain pen I’d carried for three years. Brooks pulled me out of the water, gasping for air. His voice was raw. “Rowan, are you insane? Is that drive worth more than your life?” “To you, it’s a business asset,” I coughed, clutching the fake drive. “To me, it’s the receipt for the last three years.”

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In my past life, to maintain her “pure and innocent” persona, my junior colleague Chloe actually screamed during a hostage rescue mission: “Don’t shoot!” Her idiotic stunt completely enraged the kidnapper, resulting in the brutal murder of the hostage. The hostage was a high school senior who had just finished her SATs. She had her whole life ahead of her, but it was violently stolen because of Chloe’s incompetence. “Waaaah, I didn’t mean for this to happen!” “I-I just thought the kidnapper was so pitiful…” Chloe collapsed, weeping dramatically into the arms of our squad captain, Marcus. My eyes were bloodshot with rage. “And that young girl wasn’t pitiful?!” Chloe threw a massive tantrum, threatening to kill herself to atone for her “mistake.” Every single one of my male colleagues rushed to comfort her. To quell the public outrage over the botched rescue, they pinned all the blame on me. The grieving, devastated family stalked my apartment, demanding blood for blood. And then, I was reborn. I opened my eyes on the exact day of that fateful mission. “Don’t shoo—” Just like in my previous life, Chloe, who was supposed to be negotiating and stabilizing the kidnapper’s emotions, suddenly turned and screamed toward my concealed sniper position. Luckily, I was ready this time. Without a fraction of a second of hesitation… BANG. The gunshot echoed. I cleanly and efficiently neutralized the kidnapper. I saved the pale, trembling high schooler from his grasp. Chloe charged toward me, pointing at the kidnapper’s corpse and screaming at me. “Waaaah…” “Elena, how could you be so cruel?!” I shot a cold, disdainful glare at her pathetic, weeping performance and signaled the team to wrap up. But she stubbornly blocked my path. “No! Elena, you just murdered a living, breathing person! You have to explain yourself to everyone!” I shoved her aside so hard she tumbled onto the pavement. “Do you have any idea what the hell you’re doing?” She covered her face, sobbing. “Elena, I…” The other officers rushed over at the sound of the commotion. Seeing them, Chloe instantly cried even harder. “Elena is so heartless!” “Does a kidnapper’s life mean absolutely nothing?!” I turned back, grabbed her by the collar of her uniform, and slapped her hard across the face. Chapter 2 The sharp crack of the slap silenced the area. She stared at me in absolute, horrified disbelief. Seeing this, the other officers quickly shoved her behind them to protect her. “Hey, we can talk this out! Why did you have to hit her?” My face was pitch black. I glared at every single person standing there. “She is a police officer, yet she possesses absolutely zero professional ethics.” “During an active mission, everyone follows orders. Her little ‘pure-hearted’ stunt almost got a child killed!” “Chloe was just…” Julian, who had joined the force at the same time as me, instinctively tried to defend her. “Don’t give me that ‘she’s a rookie’ crap. Did she sleep through four years at the academy?” I cut him off sharply. “These are basic protocols a middle schooler would understand! Who was she trying to get killed with that stunt?!” I glared at the group of spineless cowards who were now too intimidated to speak. “I will be submitting a full, unedited report of everything that happened today to command!” “If you have a problem with me, take it up with the Chief!” Chapter 3 Julian and Liam’s faces turned ugly, but they were forced to swallow their anger. Chloe started hiccuping and crying again. “If Elena says so… then I guess I was wrong.” “Please don’t fight because of me.” Her pathetic, damsel-in-distress act immediately elicited another wave of sympathy from the guys. “It’s just… this mission was supposed to be my big break for a promotion and an accommodation.” “Couldn’t you just show a little mercy, Elena?” The other officers chimed in to back her up. “Even if she didn’t succeed, she tried her best today, Elena. Do you really have to go this far?” “Yeah, everyone has different perspectives.” “Just because she has a different opinion than you, you’re going to go tattle to the higher-ups?” They were always like this. Blindly, unconditionally shielding Chloe. It was exactly this toxic enabling that allowed her to push boundaries and act like the rules didn’t apply to her. I looked at Julian coldly. “As Chloe’s superior officer, it is my absolute duty to provide a comprehensive evaluation of her performance in the field.” “Since when is doing my job considered ‘tattling’?” Knowing he was completely out of line, Julian averted his eyes, muttering under his breath, “Who knows if you’re going to exaggerate things?” The corner of my mouth twitched upward in a cold smirk. “Do I even need to exaggerate?” “Let me remind you, every officer in this precinct earns their accommodations and promotions through rigorous physical skills and fearless performance in the field.” “If you want those things, you have to prove you deserve them.” “And since you all claim ‘everyone has different perspectives,’ I trust Chief Miller will be able to make the final judgment.” Julian turned green with rage. “You…” “Elena, don’t push it!” Chapter 4 Seeing her promotion slip through her fingers, Chloe panicked. She rallied her harem of officers and barged into my office without knocking. “Elena, I just felt a moment of compassion for the kidnapper that day.” “Besides, it didn’t even affect the mission’s outcome!” “We’re colleagues. Can’t you just talk to Chief Miller and tell him you misunderstood my intentions?” She had really put some thought into this, deliberately begging me in front of an audience. She was trying to back me into a corner where refusing her would make me look like a monster. “I admit my skills aren’t up to par, but I promise I’ll work hard to improve. Is that not enough?” My expression didn’t change a fraction of an inch, and my stance was absolute. “Since you admit you lack the skills and are willing to improve, I’ll be submitting your name for every single mandatory remedial training program the precinct offers from now on.” Hearing this, Captain Marcus couldn’t sit still any longer. “Most of those programs are for fresh recruits. Aren’t you just wasting Chloe’s time?” A harsh scoff ripped from my throat. “Her actions the other day were worse than a fresh recruit’s.” “She wants the honors and the promotions, but refuses to put in the time to actually train.” “Do you think this precinct is some country club where you can just network and coast by on favors?” Marcus choked on his words. “If she doesn’t drastically improve her skills, who in their right mind would ever want to partner with her in the field?” As the captain, Marcus was supposed to remain neutral and not directly interfere or show favoritism in a dispute between two officers. But he couldn’t bear to see his precious junior suffer even the slightest inconvenience, completely disregarding his position of authority. “Are you really going to be this ruthless?” His mouth pulled down into a scowl, his expression darkening by the second. “The precinct is a place for justice, not for your little cliques,” I sneered, calling him out directly. “Even if the captain wants to play favorites, my stance will not change.” “She must be formally disciplined for her actions today, or it will undermine the entire command structure!” Marcus couldn’t hold back anymore. He slammed his fists onto my desk. “Elena, I think the first person who needs to be disciplined is you!” “You’re constantly stirring up trouble in the squad and disrespecting the chain of command.” “I am suspending you pending an investigation, effective immediately!” Chapter 5 Chloe, playing the saint, chimed in with fake concern. “Captain, it’s all my fault. Please don’t punish Elena.” Marcus looked down at her, his eyes instantly softening with affection. “Chloe, you’re just too kind. That’s why she always bullies you.” I let out a cold snort, thoroughly disgusted by their pathetic romantic melodrama. “You don’t have the authority to punish me!” “I told you, if you have a problem, take it to the higher-ups!” Hearing me mention the higher-ups, a calculating glint appeared in Marcus’s eyes. “Chief Miller is out of town today, so no one is going to protect you!” “Let’s go. We’re taking this to Deputy Chief Davis!” Our six-person squad marched into Deputy Chief Davis’s office. Before Davis could even process the intrusion, Marcus launched into his attack. “Deputy Chief, we’re here to report on the recent hostage rescue operation.” Davis looked up at us, confused. “Wasn’t that operation a success?” Marcus, vibrating with anger, looked like he wanted to physically throw me out of the precinct. “Elena acted unilaterally and almost got the hostage killed.” “Furthermore, she constantly harasses Chloe and even physically assaulted her.” “I believe her actions constitute a severe violation of precinct protocol!” “I am officially requesting that her accommodations for the past three years be revoked, and that she be suspended pending a full investigation.” Deputy Chief Davis looked at me. “What do you have to say for yourself?” Davis was the mentor who originally trained me. He had always been kind and supportive. I vividly remembered my first time in the field; I was terrified of making a mistake. It was his patient guidance and unwavering support that gave me the confidence to complete the mission successfully. I trusted he would give me a fair hearing. “Sir, Marcus is completely twisting the truth.” “Chloe actively disobeyed direct orders and disregarded the hostage’s safety by screaming…” Before I could finish my sentence, he raised his hand to silence me. “So, you admit to the physical assault?” Chapter 6 My heart violently seized. My thoughts completely derailed. Before I could even attempt to defend myself, Julian and Liam eagerly jumped in to support Davis’s leading question. “Elena’s behavior is destroying squad morale. She needs to be severely punished.” A chilling dread crept up my spine. I had tolerated their blatant favoritism in day-to-day matters, but in a situation this critical, how could they so blatantly ignore the actual crime? “Chloe disobeyed a direct command and almost got a hostage murdered. That is an indisputable fact!” Julian’s eyes darted away for a fraction of a second, but his arrogant sneer quickly returned. “The situation wasn’t nearly as critical as you’re making it out to be. You were just desperate to play the hero and steal the glory.” “Your own conduct is toxic, and now you’re trying to drag Chloe down with you,” he accused, completely ignoring protocol as he pointed a finger directly at my face. “Since the entire squad witnessed it, it’s clear that Officer Elena’s actions have had a severely detrimental impact on the precinct.” “We will proceed with Captain Marcus’s recommendation.” My heart plummeted. He was actually going to close the book on this based on a complete lie. “I object! I demand to appeal to internal affairs!” Davis’s brows slammed together. He glared at me with a cold sneer. “Chief Miller won’t be back until next week. There is no one here to save you.” Marcus grabbed my arm roughly. “Elena, pack your things and go home.” “Stop embarrassing yourself in front of everyone.” Right at that moment, the office door burst open. It was Ryan, a detective from the Investigations Bureau and a good friend of mine. “The victim and her father are here to see Officer Elena.” The victim was the high school student I had saved from the kidnapper. Chapter 7 “Officer Elena!” The second the girl saw me, she ran over and threw her arms around me. “Officer Elena, the knife was literally pressed against my throat.” “I thought I was never going to see my mom and dad again.” “Waaaah…” Recalling the trauma of the kidnapping, she broke down in gut-wrenching sobs. “If it wasn’t for you, I don’t know what would have happened.” Her father rushed forward, gripping my hands tightly, tears in his eyes as he endlessly repeated his gratitude. “Officer Elena, you are a true hero. A real police officer.” “Our family will owe you our lives for the rest of our days.” “…” “It’s okay. Please,” I reassured them. “It’s my duty to protect and serve. You don’t need to thank me.” The girl suddenly pulled back. Her eyes swept the room and locked onto Chloe. “Officer Elena, not all police officers are like you.” She glared at Chloe with pure venom. “If it wasn’t for that officer screaming out of nowhere, the bad guy wouldn’t have suddenly pressed the knife against me.” Her voice carried clearly through the open office door. The bullpen outside went dead silent, then erupted into whispers. “What the hell was Chloe doing?” “If I were Elena, I’d want to kill her.” “And she had the nerve to drag the whole squad in here to beg for mercy?” “Did you forget? She had the worst scores in the academy. Nobody knows how she even passed the psych eval.” “Who knows? Maybe the rumors about her having connections are true.” Chapter 8 Hearing the whispers, Ryan deliberately raised his voice. “Unfortunately, the ‘good officer’ you’re thanking is currently being suspended pending an investigation.” “What?!” The girl’s eyes widened in absolute shock. “How is that possible…?” “What do you think? She offended the wrong people,” Ryan said dryly. Deputy Chief Davis stormed out of his office, his face like thunder. “Ryan, watch your mouth.” But the Pandora’s box had been opened. The gossip was completely out of control. The girl’s father marched right up to Davis, furious. “What exactly did Officer Elena do that warrants a suspension?!” Davis’s face was dark, a muscle ticking in his jaw. He looked incredibly displeased. “This precinct is not a public forum for gossip.” Intimidated by the Deputy Chief’s authority, the father was forced to step back. But he whispered fiercely to me: “Officer Elena, if you ever need anything, anything at all, you just say the word.” Right then, a team from the Public Relations department walked into the bullpen. “We heard there was a citizen commendation ceremony happening today.” “We’re here to take some promotional photos for the precinct’s social media. We really want to highlight our officers’ heroism.” Chapter 9 “Yes, yes, of course…” The father immediately unfurled a massive silk banner. It read, in bold gold lettering: To Officer Elena – A True Guardian of the People. Davis instantly forced a rigid, awkward smile and played along. “What are you waiting for? Let’s get the group photo.” He looked at me. I was standing perfectly still, my arms crossed, refusing to move an inch. “Elena, get over here.” I had a stomach full of rage and nowhere to vent it. This was the perfect opportunity. “Just five minutes ago, Deputy Chief Davis told me that my actions during the rescue had a ‘detrimental impact’ and suspended me pending an investigation.” “So what exactly is this photo op supposed to be?” “I don’t want to embarrass the department. You guys take the photo without me.” With that, I turned on my heel, ready to walk out of the precinct. Hearing me publicly confirm my suspension, the PR team and the gathered officers instantly turned their questioning, burning gazes onto Davis. Their stares were so intense they practically pinned him to an invisible cross. The father angrily rolled up the banner. “If Officer Elena isn’t receiving this, then I’m not presenting it.” The PR team, having wasted a trip, looked incredibly annoyed. “We will be reporting this incident directly to the Commissioner’s office. We expect a full explanation from Deputy Chief Davis.” Chapter 10 The previously lively atmosphere froze instantly. The tension in the room was suffocating. Davis’s face turned beet red, sweat practically dripping from his forehead. “It was just a misunderstanding.” “Surely Officer Elena isn’t going to hold a grudge over a simple miscommunication.” I let out a cold laugh. “If the four of them apologize to me publicly, right now, I’ll pretend this never happened.” “You can’t just hurl baseless accusations at an officer who risked her life, and expect no consequences. I want an apology.” The vast majority of the bullpen began murmuring in agreement. Backed into a corner with nowhere to hide, the four of them were finally forced to step forward. In unison, they bowed their heads. “Elena, we apologize!”

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When I was five years old, my mother, carrying a stuttering child like me, married into the ridiculously wealthy Sterling family. Everyone whispered that my mother was a master manipulator, a gold digger who had snagged the jackpot. They all bet that it wouldn’t be long before the Sterling family chewed us up and spit out our bones. The wedding day arrived, and the venue was packed with the city’s elite. Tucked away in a small side room, a group of snobby little rich girls cornered me. They pulled sharply at my collar, choking me, laughing and calling me a “mute little burden.” No one believed my new stepfather would ever stick his neck out for me. But the very next day, my stepfather stood before his peers and announced: “Chloe Sterling is my youngest daughter. She is not mute. And she is an equal heir to the Sterling fortune.” 01 “Are you a mute?” Caleb Sterling asked, leaning down to look at me. I wasn’t a mute. I just had a severe stutter. When other kids my age were chatting in full sentences, I could still only manage single syllables. Realizing something was wrong, my mom took me to specialists. The doctors said it was partly genetic, and partly because I was born prematurely. Most kids with stutters gradually improve with the help of a speech therapist. But I didn’t. In fact, it got worse. It got so bad that eventually, I refused to even try making a single sound. I hated talking. I hated the way people looked at me when I tried. I wasn’t intentionally ignoring him or refusing to call him “brother.” I knew I was supposed to speak today. But my throat just closed up. The harder I tried, the more panicked I became, until huge, silent tears started rolling down my cheeks. My mom rushed over, pulling me into her arms in a panic. She kissed my forehead, cooing gently, “Oh, baby, don’t cry. Caleb was just making a joke. Our little Chloe isn’t a mute; she just gets nervous and the words get stuck, right?” My stepfather’s face turned stern as he looked at Caleb. “Is that how you speak to your sister? Apologize.” Caleb clearly hadn’t expected his casual comment to make me cry so hard. He stood there, frozen, his handsome face looking a little foolish. His biological sister, Victoria Sterling, shot him a look of pure schadenfreude. Caleb opened his mouth, and the voice that came out was barely louder than a mosquito: “I’m sorry. I was wrong.” My stepfather frowned, completely unsatisfied. “Louder!” My mom, not wanting to cause a massive scene on her very first day in the house, gently patted my stepfather’s arm. “It’s fine, it’s fine. The baby heard her brother apologize, didn’t you, sweetie?” I rubbed my swollen eyes and nodded as hard as I could. That evening, my mom and stepfather had to entertain hundreds of VIP guests and business partners, so my stepfather asked Victoria to keep an eye on me. She was about seven or eight years older than me. She wore a beautiful pale-yellow princess dress and a small pearl tiara nestled in her dark hair. Her skin was porcelain white. I had never seen a girl as pretty as her in my entire life. She brought out a pile of toys and patiently, gently showed me how to play with them. Knowing I had a stutter, she didn’t try to force me to talk. After a while, her phone rang. She walked over to the furthest window to answer it. Since I was a baby, I’ve had incredibly sharp senses. I could hear whispers from across a room and see the tiny veins on a leaf from a distance. Only my mom knew about this. Victoria obviously didn’t know, otherwise she never would have taken that call in the same room as me. The caller was her aunt. Caleb and Victoria’s biological mother had passed away from cancer years ago, and since then, they had maintained a very close relationship with their mother’s sister. “Vicky, how is that woman? Has she shown her true colors yet? With a face like that, she’s clearly a seductress. I knew from the start she was bad news. She bewitched your father so thoroughly he married her after only knowing her for a few months.” “A divorced woman with a kid in tow… managing to pull off a stunt like this? I am so worried about you and Caleb.” “She’s no good, and neither is that daughter of hers. You and Caleb need to make sure you don’t let them win you over.” Victoria had her back to me, so I couldn’t see her expression. I just heard her hum in agreement a few times before asking how her aunt’s business in Europe was going and when she would be back. “If I wasn’t tied up with this merger, I would be there right now to put those two in their place and back you up. Ugh.” “Did anything happen today?” Victoria hesitated for a second before recounting what had happened with Caleb earlier. Her aunt let out a cold, sharp laugh through the phone. “That mother-daughter duo is establishing dominance. Forcing the heir of the Sterling family to apologize to them on day one? Just wait until she pops out a son for your father. Who do you think will really be running that house?” “They say when you get a stepmother, you get a stepfather. It’s true. Vicky, you need to warn your brother. Watch your backs around those two.” “My brother and I will be careful,” Victoria promised. 02 My mom is never going to have another baby, I muttered silently in my head. That was an agreement she and my stepfather had made before the wedding. I had overheard them talking about it. Victoria hung up the phone and walked back over to me. The look in her eyes had shifted; the gentle warmth from earlier was gone. She sighed and said, “Chloe, stay here and play. I’m going to change my dress.” I nodded, knowing she was actually going to find Caleb. Just a few minutes later, the door was violently pushed open. Three girls, roughly Victoria’s age, marched in. They were all dripping in expensive, flashy designer dresses. “Where’s Victoria? Didn’t they say she was in here?” The girls scanned the room. They didn’t find Victoria, but they did spot me sitting on the rug with the toys. “Who is this kid? Hey, where’s Victoria? Do you know?” I sat on the sofa as the three of them swaggered over, looking down at me like I was dirt on their shoes. I pressed my lips tightly together, shook my head, and pointed toward the door Victoria had just left through. “Why aren’t you talking? Whose kid are you? Why are you in here all alone?” one of the girls asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “This is the family’s private suite. What’s your connection to Victoria?” “Hey… look at her dress. It looks almost identical to the one Victoria was wearing. It’s from the same couture line.” “I heard Victoria’s new stepmom dragged a kid into the marriage. It couldn’t be you, could it?” The moment they put the pieces together, they covered their mouths and burst into cruel, mocking laughter, acting like I was the funniest joke in the world. Their laughter made my stomach churn. I dropped my toy, slid off the sofa, and headed for the door to find my mom. “Hey! Where do you think you’re going, little burden?” One of them grabbed the back of my collar and violently yanked me backward. They didn’t realize how hard they pulled. The collar cut sharply into my throat. My eyes rolled back, and a strangled, panicked whine escaped my lips. Right at that exact moment, Victoria walked back in. Seeing them practically choking me, she gasped and sprinted across the room, snatching me away from them. “Chloe! Are you okay?!” The three girls jumped in surprise, immediately backpedaling. “We didn’t do it on purpose!” I coughed violently, patting Victoria’s hand to let her know I was breathing. Seeing the involuntary tears streaming down my face from the choking, Victoria was furious. “You are guests in this house! You made my sister cry! What the hell are you doing in my room?!” “We told you, it was an accident! Stop yelling at us!” one of the girls snapped back indignantly. “So she really is your sister, huh? Why didn’t she make a single sound? Is she a mute or something?” It was obvious that these three girls weren’t exactly best friends with Victoria. Victoria glared at them. “That is none of your business! You have absolutely zero manners. Get out of my room!” After being choked and yanked around like a ragdoll, a normal child would have been screaming and crying. The three girls looked at me with weird, twisted expressions, and then started snickering again. “Victoria, I actually feel bad for you. Your dad marries a gold digger, and she brings a defective little sister into the house! It’s pathetic.” “In our circle, you don’t see many kids with handicaps, do you?” “You’ve always acted so arrogant and superior at school, Victoria. Let’s see how high and mighty you act now with this following you around.” Victoria held me tighter, taking a deep breath. “Is this how your parents raised you? Whether my sister has a disability or not, who gave you the right to look down on people with disabilities?!” “There are security cameras in this room. I’m going to have the butler pull the footage and send it directly to your parents.” “And you better remember to come back to my house and formally apologize to my sister.” 03 The very next day, all three sets of parents dragged their daughters to the Sterling estate to apologize to me. My stepfather sat me right next to him on the main sofa. His expression was dead serious, radiating a terrifying authority. He looked at the three nervously smiling families, cleared his throat, and announced: “Chloe Sterling is my youngest daughter. Whether she speaks or not, when the time comes, she will receive an equal share of the Sterling corporate shares and inheritance.” Everyone in the room froze in shock. My mom, sitting on his other side, gasped and grabbed his hand. Looking at her wide eyes, I realized my stepfather hadn’t discussed this with her beforehand at all. “Honey…” My stepfather gave her a reassuring nod. The faces of the three girls were much easier to read. They stared at me in absolute horror, then nervously glanced behind us at Caleb and Victoria, their expressions filled with a mix of shock and mockery. I peeked over my shoulder too. Caleb and Victoria were staring at me with incredibly complex expressions. I pretended not to notice and quickly looked forward again. My stepfather gave his two older children a brief, unreadable glance before turning back to the guests. “I strongly suggest you focus on raising your children properly. With behavior like this, I wouldn’t dare let the future heirs of the Sterling empire associate with them.” The three sets of parents looked absolutely terrified, forcefully pushing their daughters’ heads down to apologize to me again and again. I didn’t want them staying here any longer, knowing their presence was only further aggravating Caleb and Victoria. I also knew these apologies were entirely forced by my stepfather’s power, not genuine remorse. So, I looked up at my stepfather and patted my stomach. “Baby… hungry.” The guests and the Sterling siblings jumped again. They had probably been utterly convinced I was completely mute! My stepfather delivered his final sentence. “Chloe Sterling will be attending the prestigious Vanguard Academy alongside her brother and sister. I expect her school life to be pleasant and peaceful.” “Show them out.” Vanguard Academy was famous across the state. It was the premier incubator for the elite children of City D. Every single student who graduated from Vanguard went on to become a titan in their respective industries. Because of the severe bullying I had endured in kindergarten before, I was terrified of going back to school. I sat in the back of the Maybach, looking miserable. But I didn’t realize that my stepfather had used his immense wealth and power to skip me straight into the first grade. Standing outside the classroom door, my mom kissed my cheek. “Go on, sweetie. Don’t be scared. Mom and Dad will always have your back.” When the homeroom teacher introduced me, she specifically mentioned that I “wasn’t very talkative,” and thoughtfully seated me next to the class president. The class president was a girl with a short bob and huge, bright eyes. She curiously stuck her hand out toward me. “Hi! I’m Samantha Vance.” I shook her hand and gave her a sweet, shy smile. All the teachers knew about my “special situation,” so they rarely called on me during class. During recess, since I didn’t know anyone yet, no one really approached me either. And just like that, my first week of school passed peacefully. No one knew I had a stutter. “She is so quiet. She can literally go a whole day without saying a single word.” “Now that you mention it, have you ever actually heard her voice?” “I haven’t. But Samantha talked to her.” The only word I had ever said to Samantha was “Thanks.” Because the elementary school let out at a different time than the middle school, I rarely rode home in the same car as Caleb and Victoria. But today, they both showed up at the elementary wing to pick me up. I had no idea they were basically celebrities at Vanguard. The reaction from my classmates told me everything I needed to know about their popularity. “Oh my god! Caleb and Victoria Sterling are your older brother and sister?! Chloe, why didn’t you tell us?!” “I heard they’re ranked number one in their grade again this year! And Victoria is representing Vanguard at an international violin competition!” “I would die for their autographs! Chloe, can you help me get them?” “They’re literally the king and queen of Vanguard. No wonder Chloe is so pretty.” I looked exactly like my mom. That was the one thing I was most proud of. 04 From that day on, my popularity skyrocketed. Every kid in class crowded around my desk, desperately asking for gossip about Caleb and Victoria. Even if they badgered me for ten minutes and I only gave them a one or two-word answer, they didn’t think I was being rude. They thought I was being “aloof and cool.” They thought that was exactly how a member of the Sterling family should act. Samantha helped me fend them off, using her authority as class president to order them to stop bothering me while I was studying. And just like that, my secret remained safe. It wasn’t that I was intentionally trying to deceive everyone. I just couldn’t bear the thought of them looking at me through the warped, judgmental lens of my stutter again. When the Summer Gala rolled around, my homeroom teacher asked if I was interested in performing. I frantically shook my head. The teacher looked surprised. “Your brother and sister are always so heavily involved in the social events and performances. I assumed you would enjoy it too. Vanguard’s galas attract a lot of major media outlets and directors from the top arts academies. A lot of A-list talent gets scouted from Vanguard. The competition for performance slots is incredibly fierce.” I kept shaking my head. They probably all assumed I was a pampered little princess groomed for the spotlight since birth, just like Victoria. But I wasn’t. I didn’t have a single special talent. I had no business being on a stage. As I walked out of the teacher’s office, Samantha suddenly appeared beside me. “Chloe, can you do me a huge favor? I really want to perform. I can play the piano.” I stared at her silently. “Chloe, listen to me. I know you have a speech impediment. You’re not being ‘aloof’ by not talking, you’re just terrified people will make fun of your stutter. If you recommend me to the teacher, whether I get the slot or not, I swear on my life I will keep your secret forever. Please?” A crushing wave of depression hit me. I pressed my lips tightly together. When did I expose myself? How did she know? I gripped the hem of my skirt, thinking it over. Finally, I nodded at Samantha, turned around, and walked back into the office. “T-t-t-teacher… I… I… r-recommend… S-s-samantha.” By the time I forced the sentence out, my face was burning crimson. The teacher knew about my condition. She gently patted my head. “Chloe is such a good girl. Your voice is beautiful. Will you try to talk to me a little more from now on?” I stood there, frozen, my face practically on fire. “Samantha actually nominated herself earlier. Now that she has your recommendation, I’ll definitely give it serious consideration. Head back to class now, Chloe!” Samantha was waiting for me in the hallway. She looked at me with eager, glowing eyes. “Chloe! How did it go? What did she say?” Since she already knew about my stutter, there was no point in hiding it anymore. “T-teacher… s-said… she’ll… th-think about it.” I kept my head down, completely missing the flash of disgust that crossed Samantha’s eyes. She jumped up and down excitedly. “Thank you, Chloe! It’s official: you are my absolute best friend at Vanguard!” I have a friend now? That phrase sparked a tiny, fragile flame of happiness in my chest. Samantha got the performance slot she wanted. And she kept her promise, acting like a loyal bodyguard. Whenever any classmate tried to talk to me for more than a minute, she would swoop in and chase them away with a few sharp words. Over time, she became the only person around me. Everyone else started giving me a wide berth. A few times, she mentioned her parents were busy and couldn’t pick her up, asking if my family’s driver could drop her off. I figured it was a small favor and the driver wouldn’t mind, so I agreed. I never once considered what these “small favors” were doing to Samantha’s ego, or what she was doing with them. Until one day, Caleb and Victoria showed up at our classroom door, their faces like thunderclouds. “Who the hell is going around telling people my sister is a stupid, rich target who’s easy to manipulate?!” Samantha, whose hand was currently buried in my backpack fishing for my imported chocolates, froze. She looked up at them in sheer panic. 05 Caleb and Victoria marched me straight to the homeroom teacher’s office. They left me in the waiting area while they went inside to talk to her. “Chloe is young and incredibly innocent. We expect her teachers to keep a closer eye on her, rather than letting her be blindly used and manipulated by other students.” “Chloe has trauma. She doesn’t like to speak. But that is absolutely no excuse for her to be isolated and targeted by vicious rumors.” The teacher rubbed her temples, letting out a soft sigh. “I’ve been trying to encourage Chloe to interact with the students around her. I’ve rearranged the seating chart multiple times, but she simply refuses to talk.” “And she firmly refused to change desk partners.” “Chloe’s grades are excellent. She’s a brilliant child. But she is incredibly strong-willed. If she doesn’t want to change, it’s very difficult for external factors to force her.” Caleb’s voice was hard. “We will handle speaking to Chloe. But that Samantha girl… you need to deal with her.” Victoria chimed in, “The Vance family is already out there using the Sterling name to secure business deals.” The homeroom teacher at Vanguard Academy was no fool. She gave a solemn nod, absolutely unwilling to lose her prestigious job over this mess. Victoria held my hand as we walked to the car. I looked up at her, and after a long silence, I finally asked, “D-does… e-everyone… kn-know… I… s-stutter?” They both crouched down to my eye level. “Are you sad, Chloe?” I nodded. I knew Samantha was the one who had spread the secret behind my back. She was the only person in the entire school I had interacted with. She told me I was her best friend. And she lied to me. Caleb effortlessly scooped me up into his arms. “Chloe, you need to understand something. You are a daughter of the Sterling family. Whether you stutter, or whether you’re completely mute, you are an existence they can only dream of reaching. They should be begging to be your friend. You never have to compromise yourself for them.” I didn’t understand that. Because of my stutter, my biological parents got divorced. Because of my stutter, my mom and I were thrown out onto the street by my grandparents. In my mind, stuttering was the worst crime in the world. If I didn’t stutter, my mom wouldn’t have had to suffer so much humiliation and pain for me. So I thought it was completely normal for people to mock me. I thought it was normal they didn’t want to be my friends. I thought my stutter made me inherently bad. “With one word from you, Samantha got to perform on the main stage. You let her ride in your Maybach, and she paraded it around school. Everyone was jealous of her. Her parents went around bragging that she was the Sterling heiress’s best friend, and their business partners literally gave them better deals just to get on your good side.” “We saw all of these little tricks, and we didn’t care. But she crossed a massive line when she started badmouthing you behind your back. She called you ‘the little stutterer.’ She called you a ‘burden.’” “A manipulative, two-faced snake like her doesn’t deserve to be your friend,” Victoria said firmly. Samantha was forced to write a formal apology letter and read it aloud three times in front of the entire class. Her face turned beet red, and by the third time, she was sobbing uncontrollably. The very next day, she transferred out of Vanguard Academy. I didn’t have a desk partner anymore, and I felt incredibly depressed. My stepfather and mom heard about the incident, and that afternoon, they personally drove to the school to take all three of us out to a fancy dinner. When the bell rang, it started pouring rain. I hadn’t brought an umbrella. The teacher told me to wait in the lobby while she went to grab one for me. Suddenly, a girl from my class stepped forward. “Teacher, we’re walking the same way. I’ll walk her to the gate!” She popped her umbrella open. “Let’s go. What are you standing there for? You look stupid.” It wasn’t until we reached the school gates and I saw my stepfather’s Bentley that I gathered the courage to speak. “Th-thank… you.” She lifted her chin arrogantly. “Don’t get it twisted, I’m not trying to kiss up to the Sterling family. My family’s business isn’t as massive as yours, but we’re doing just fine.” “Also, your voice is actually really nice. So what if you stutter? Why do you care so much about what other people think? Grow a backbone.” Her name was Mia Thorne, the heiress of the Thorne Corporation. She was incredibly haughty and her words were always blunt and abrasive, which was why she didn’t have many friends either.

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When my parents hung up for the ninety-ninth time, I walked into the Registry Office, clutching my cancer diagnosis report. “Hello, I’d like to proactively cancel my registration.” Ten minutes later, my parents rushed in with my adopted sister. My father, a police officer, stormed in and slapped me. “Wasting police resources just to bicker with your sister? What good did all that schooling do you?!” My mother, a forensic pathologist, snatched the diagnosis report from my hand. She glanced at it, then sneered, “Faking medical records to get attention, pretending to be sick. You’ve been a liar since you were a child!” My adopted sister cried, tugging at my parents’ hands. “I’m sorry, Aria, I’ll never celebrate my birthday again. Please, stop lying to Mom and Dad!” I wiped away the unstoppable nosebleed and once again faced the Registry staff member. “I no longer have a family. To avoid delaying the cremation in three days, please help me process the cancellation.” … It was the third month after my late-stage stomach cancer diagnosis, and the doctor strongly urged me to be hospitalized. But I had no money, so I had to ask Mom and Dad for help. When Mom and Dad hung up on me for the ninety-ninth time, I walked into the Registry Office, clutching my cancer diagnosis report. “Hello, I’d like to proactively cancel my registration.” The staff member looked at me with a sympathetic expression and asked, “Young lady, don’t you have any family?” No sooner had she spoken. Mom and Dad rushed over with my adopted sister. Dad, without a word, slapped me, then pointed at my nose, seething with anger. “Wasting police resources just to bicker with your sister! What good did all that schooling do you?!” I was stunned by the blow. It took me a while to remember that today was Bella’s birthday party. Dad had specifically taken two days off to be with her. And I, his biological daughter with late-stage cancer, had merely called to ask for a little money for medical expenses. And was accused of wasting police resources. Tears quickly welled up in my eyes. I covered my swollen, aching cheek and tried to explain, “Dad, I didn’t…” “Still trying to argue?!” Mom snatched the report from my hand, scanned it, and sneered, “To gain attention, you stoop to forging medical records! You’ve ruined your sister’s important birthday party! You’ve been a liar since childhood, and you expect us to believe you now?” Saying this, she too tried to hit me, but Bella held her back with all her might. Bella’s eyes sparkled with tears, and she pleaded with me, appearing fragile and innocent. “I’m sorry, Aria, I shouldn’t have had a birthday. Please, stop deceiving Mom and Dad! Mom and Dad have worried themselves sick over you. If you could just repent, I promise I’ll never celebrate my birthday again!” Mom tenderly held Bella in her arms, wiping away her tears little by little. The scene of their deep mother-daughter affection stung my eyes. My mind was a blank, and a gush of hot, coppery blood streamed from my nostrils. I raised my hand to wipe the blood, then turned back to the service counter and addressed the staff member. “I no longer have a family. To avoid delaying the cremation in three days, please help me process the cancellation.” Dad laughed in exasperation, his tone mocking. “To ruin your sister’s birthday party, you even drag government officials into your act? This is absurd! Just wait for the consequences of your deplorable behavior! Don’t even claim to be my daughter then!” With that, they left with Bella, never looking back. After completing all the procedures, I returned home alone. Three days left to live: I, with late-stage cancer, processed my own identity cancellation. While my parents were celebrating a birthday with their adopted daughter. On the verge of death, I didn’t want to linger at home. I merely wanted to sort through my belongings one last time. But I found there was little to organize. My room was the smallest storage space in the house. It held only a few old clothes and a meager collection of stationery that belonged to me. Even Bella’s walk-in closet was three or four times larger. Only her unwanted items ever made their way into this storage room. After packing my things, I received a call from the Cemetery Company. “Ms. Aria Sterling, are you still interested in the burial plot you viewed previously? If you place a deposit now, we can reserve it for you; otherwise, it will be offered to other clients.” It was a plot I had looked at not long ago. The cemetery was adorned with lush pines and manicured roses. The gravestone and urn were in a clean, minimalist style. It was my favorite. At the time, I thought, since life had been so hard, perhaps death could be more comfortable. But now, that wish couldn’t be fulfilled. I hesitated for a moment, then replied, “No, thank you.” Because I had no money. How could someone who couldn’t afford medical treatment buy an expensive burial plot? As soon as I hung up, my older brother, Ethan, returned. He threw his briefcase down hastily, looking bewildered. “A burial plot? What burial plot?” I thought he knew something. But the next second, he spoke with an accusatory tone. “Aria Sterling, what new trick are you up to? I heard you caused a scene at the Civic Center just to ruin Bella’s birthday party! Not just Mom and Dad, even I’m embarrassed! Bella was so worried about you she cried out of guilt, and her birthday party was ruined. This is her only eighteenth birthday! If she hadn’t lost her parents when she was little, she wouldn’t have to live as a dependent. Why can’t you just accept her?” I looked at Ethan’s aggressive face, and the words I wanted to say caught in my throat. Wasn’t I the one being excluded? Bella’s eighteenth birthday was important, but what about mine? Ever since she appeared, I had never had a proper birthday. Every time my birthday approached, Bella would either catch a cold or have an allergic reaction. Then Mom and Dad would promptly abandon me, and the whole family would accompany her to the hospital. For ten consecutive years, if Bella so much as sneezed, Mom and Dad would nervously reach for a thermometer. As for my eighteenth birthday, they simply forgot. I didn’t even receive a single “Happy Birthday.” Yet they remembered to organize a banquet for Bella, custom-make her a dress, and prepare birthday gifts. With tears in my eyes, I looked at Ethan, telling him choked up, “Ethan, my eighteenth birthday, my only eighteenth birthday, you not only forgot it, but you didn’t even give me pocket money to buy a slice of birthday cake…” Ethan remembered something, and his eyes seemed to soften. But when he spoke, his tone was still irritable. “Why are you so petty? If you didn’t make mistakes and refuse to repent, why would Mom and Dad be angry for so long?” Just then, Dad, Mom, and Bella returned. From a distance, their echoing shouts of reprimand drifted from outside the door. “You still have the nerve to mention your eighteenth birthday? Based on what you’ve done to Bella, you don’t deserve to celebrate a birthday!” Dad’s face was ashen, his eyes burning with a rage that seemed ready to consume me. “You completely ruined Bella’s birthday, and yet she cried herself almost into shock begging us to forgive you! Don’t you feel any guilt at all? Apologize to your sister at once!” Bella snapped out of her sadness, forced a smile, and stepped forward. “No need to apologize, I’d like to eat the soy milk cake Aria makes. Aria, would you make me a cake?” Mom’s eyes flashed with a hint of relief, and she quickly urged me, “Isn’t that your specialty, sweetie? Aria, Bella’s giving you an easy out, you’re practically getting off lightly, hurry up and go!” I looked at Bella’s increasingly smug expression, didn’t move, and instead retorted, “Aren’t you allergic to soy beans? Insisting on eating my cake, are you trying to blame me again for your allergy?” Bella’s face instantly went pale. In the blink of an eye, she grabbed my hand, pleading innocently, “I’m sorry, Aria, I forgot! It’s all my fault for falling down the stairs when I was little, which damaged my brain and made me forget about my allergy! Aria, please don’t be angry, okay? I can eat another flavor!” Her hypocritical and affected demeanor made me find her utterly ridiculous. The first time I made a soy milk cake, I didn’t know she was allergic to soy beans. At the time, to prove my sincerity to my sister. Just because she said she liked it, I burned my hands countless times to bake the perfect cake base. As a result, Bella had an allergic reaction and fainted. When she woke up, she immediately cried and threw herself into Dad and Mom’s arms. “Uncle Sterling and Aunt Sterling, the cake was Aria’s kind gesture, she said it wouldn’t matter if I just had one bite. Please, don’t blame Aria, it’s all my fault for being greedy!” I stood helplessly by the hospital bed, facing Mom and Dad’s hateful glares. “I didn’t know Bella was allergic to soy beans, and she never told me…” But what I received in return was not trust. It was a flying kick from Dad. He kicked me in the stomach, sending me several feet away. The pain was so intense I couldn’t even get up. “Everyone in the family knows, how could you not know? Don’t make such a pathetic excuse! I think you just can’t stand your sister!” So, I was locked in my room for three whole days. Those three days were a nightmare of my life. No food, no water, couldn’t even go to the bathroom. By the time I was let out, I was utterly exhausted. Thinking of this, I coldly refused her, “My skills aren’t good enough, I can’t make what you want. If you want something, go buy it yourself.” Bella persistently clung to my arm, her voice tinged with a hint of fear. “Alright, alright, I don’t want cake, please don’t be angry, Aria!” As she spoke, a malicious glint flashed in her eyes. Her grip on my arm tightened with increasing force. Until, wincing in pain, I pulled my hand away, and she, completely off guard, stumbled and fell to the floor. Everyone’s face instantly changed. Mom, quick as a flash, helped Bella up, anxiously checking her for injuries. Bella seemed to have bumped her elbow, and she whimpered in Mom’s arms, “Mom, it hurts…” Ethan rolled up her sleeve, gently rubbed her joint a few times, then turned and sharply rebuked, “Aria Sterling! You’ve gone too far!” Dad, even more furious, stepped forward and slapped me directly. “Aria Sterling, you really are ungrateful! If you hadn’t pushed Bella down the stairs when you were little, would she have suffered brain damage?! If I had known you were so malicious, I never should have had you! No dinner tonight, go back to your room and reflect properly!” The slap was delivered with almost full force. I felt like one of my molars had fallen out. Mom saw the blood at the corner of my mouth, and a flicker of pity crossed her eyes. But the next second, merely because Bella’s crying intensified a little, she averted her gaze and went back to comforting Bella. I wiped the blood from my mouth and turned to go back to my room. Not to reflect, but to retrieve my packed luggage. They glanced at me in surprise, then followed with sneers. “What, you’ve grown wild, learned to run away from home? Parents disciplining you is for your own good, Aria. Why don’t you understand our sincere intentions? If you refuse to comply, then walk out that door today and don’t ever come back!” With repeated disappointments, my heart had become as still as water. Hearing such threats countless times, I was no longer afraid of not being able to return home. Because this home had never truly accepted me. Seeing me walk out without looking back. Dad, furious, grabbed a cup and threw it. The shattering glass grazed my head, leaving a small cut. But I did not yield. I merely paused, turning to face everyone. “Since you regret having me, then today I sever all ties with the Sterling family. Whoever goes back on their word is a dog.” As soon as I stepped out of the villa’s courtyard, Ethan chased after me, pulling a few bills from his pocket. He offered them to me, his tone admonishing. “Here’s a hundred dollars, take it and cool off somewhere for a few days. Once Mom and Dad calm down, come back and apologize, and this whole thing will blow over.” A hundred dollars. For Bella, that was just the cost of a single meal. So, they had long been accustomed to believing that my, Aria’s, few days of living expenses were only worth Bella’s one meal. Just then, Bella also ran out. She snatched the money from Ethan’s hand, smiling as she fawned over me. “Aria, we’re all family, Dad and Mom are just saying things in anger. Does Ethan really want to drive Aria away? If you ask me, don’t give her any money. When she gets hungry, she’ll come back sooner, won’t she?” Ethan seemed to find logic in this, and quietly withdrew his hand. My symptoms flared up again. Dragging my weary body, I don’t know how long I walked before finally leaving the affluent district where the Sterling family resided. Using the little money I’d saved from part-time jobs, I booked a room at a motel. That night, I curled up on the small bed, holding myself. As time slowly ticked away, I drifted into a dream. In the days before Bella, I, too, was my parents’ cherished darling. At that time, they were both too busy with work to spare any attention. When I was very young, they sent me to the countryside. Mom kissed my cheek, lingeringly, and said, “Darling, when Mom finishes work, she’ll come to pick you up soon.” I waited four years. When Mom and Dad finally came for me, there was another girl with them. She was the child of Dad’s close friend; her parents had passed away for certain reasons. Mom and Dad adopted her. I genuinely treated her as my own little sister. But on her birthday, she was pricked by a needle hidden in her party dress. She cried and buried herself in Mom and Dad’s arms, saying, “Uncle Sterling and Aunt Sterling, please don’t blame Aria. Aria didn’t mean it. Just give me a little more time, and I’ll definitely make her accept me!” Her words instantly sealed my fate. I questioned why she would frame me. A sinister smile appeared on her innocent face, then she grabbed my hand, placed it on her chest, and deliberately fell down the stairs. At that moment, Mom and Dad had just returned home. From then on, I became an undeniable troublemaker. The money I earned from part-time jobs was falsely accused by Bella of being stolen from her, and my parents cut off my allowance because of it. I was bullied by Bella’s clique, but she would merely feign innocence and turn the tables, making me out to be the bully. The consequence was being locked in a dark room. Because I often went hungry, I developed a severe stomach condition. When I bravely told Mom and Dad, my stomach medicine was replaced with vitamins. Simply because I had spent a few years in the countryside, all sorts of unfavorable accusations could be easily pinned on me. Even the right to celebrate my birthday was taken away. Waking up in the middle of the night with stomach pain, I suddenly longed for my Grandma in the countryside. The noodle soup Grandma made for me was incomparable to any food in the Sterling household. Not long after Grandma passed away, the countryside area was redeveloped. Unfortunately, my body was now very weak, and I didn’t have enough money for travel. Even visiting her grave had become an unattainable wish. Two days left to live: I ordered the cheapest noodle takeout I could find. While waiting for the delivery, I received a message from Ethan. [Mom and Dad still care about you, they told me to buy medicine for the cut on your head.] [Bella has already gone to see you with the medicine, she’s been trying to be friendly, please don’t hurt her anymore, okay?] Half an hour later. Bella and my takeout arrived almost simultaneously. Just as I was about to take my first bite of noodles, she raised her hand and knocked my bowl over. Noodles and broth splattered across the floor, a complete mess. “Aria Sterling, you didn’t actually think I came to bring you medicine, did you? My apologies, the medicine has already been thrown away.” She shed her usual demure facade, laughing spitefully. “Haven’t you seen the news? The staff member who processed your documents has been reported and suspended. Mom and Dad found out too, and they’re furious.” At this, I finally lost my patience. “Why are you doing this?” “Because I hate you, that’s why. Blame yourself, you jinx. You’re the one who dragged that person down. Got stomach cancer, big deal? You want to announce it to the world, but do you see Mom and Dad believing you? You’re dying anyway, why don’t you just die somewhere far away? Why do you have to be an eyesore here at the Sterling residence?!” Watching her enraged face, I remained unperturbed. Instead, I spoke calmly. “Bella, I genuinely believe I have never done anything to harm you. Why are you doing this to me?” Bella’s laugh was incredibly sarcastic. It took a long time for her to stop. “There’s no helping it. An adopted child simply can’t compare to a biological one. Parents, no matter how hard they try, can’t balance their love perfectly. So, I had to find a way to secure my place in the Sterling family, didn’t I?” “The needle in the dress when you were little, did you put it there yourself?” “That’s right.” Bella admitted without hesitation. “I put the needle in myself, and I threw myself down the stairs. A bit of specially formulated medicine, and I could fake an allergy. I’d go to any length to frame you. So, everything that’s happening now, I deserve it. What, are you very angry? Dissatisfied? Can you even kill me?” I was indeed very angry. The physical pain, mixed with fury, made me tremble. “Bella, you’re despicable!” No sooner had I spoken, she slapped me. It sent me sprawling to the ground. “Aria Sterling, save what little energy you have left, and just cling on for two more days. Once you’re dead, no one will threaten my position anymore.” She kicked me twice more before finally leaving, satisfied. Completely oblivious to the camera I had set up in the corner. I slowly picked myself up from the floor, laboriously brushing off my clothes, soaked with noodle broth. I opened my phone and saw the news about the staff member’s suspension. The online comments were unanimously against me, condemning my vicious behavior for sibling rivalry. I didn’t really care. But the staff member was innocent. So I created a group chat, inviting only Dad, Mom, and Ethan. And sent the video I had just recorded to the group. At the same time, I emailed it to all my relatives, friends, and classmates.

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My childhood best friend, Aria, suffers from a condition called “skin hunger.” She needs to hold me every day to soothe her anxiety. But ever since the so-called “fated male lead,” Ethan, appeared, she stopped touching me. Instead, she openly hugged him right in front of me. Desperate to win her back, I rejected an arranged marriage with the daughter of the city’s wealthiest family and even threatened to cut ties with my own parents. To my shock, Aria just sneered at me: “Wow, you actually threatened to cut ties with your family? I almost respect you for having the guts. “Too bad you’re just a giant man-child who hasn’t been weaned yet. You aren’t worth a single fraction of Ethan.” Then, a barrage of floating text—a bullet screen—appeared in my vision: [The second male lead is an absolute idiot. Your arranged fiancée is literally the most beautiful woman in the business world.] [With her help, building your own business empire is basically a guaranteed success.] Hearing that, I instantly changed my mind and bowed my head to my parents. “Mom, Dad, I agree to the marriage.” 1. I was standing in my father’s study. I had just declared that I was severing all ties with the family. The glowing text of the bullet screen rolled frantically across my vision, desperately trying to persuade me. [Don’t do anything stupid! You gain absolutely nothing from this!] [The second you leave your family, the male lead is going to completely destroy your future.] Ethan gripped Aria’s hand tightly. His brow was furrowed, his eyes filled with apparent concern. “Liam, don’t do this. How about I just back off? I’ll give Aria back to you. “You’re the heir to the Sterling Group. You’re the only one truly suited for her. A normal guy like me shouldn’t get between you two.” Aria glared at me coldly, instinctively pulling Ethan behind her to protect him. “You don’t need to beg him. Let him do whatever he wants. “Can’t you see? He’s just putting on an act. He’s a spoiled rich kid who grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth. Do you really think he’d give all this up? “You’re just too naive, Ethan. That’s why he thinks he can manipulate you.” Her tone was dripping with disgust. “Liam Sterling, drop the act. Looking at you makes me sick.” This was the same childhood friend who used to agree with everything I said. Now, she was acting as a human shield for another man. She seemed to have completely forgotten that she used to grip the hem of my shirt, begging me not to leave her side. Aria suffered from skin hunger. She needed daily physical contact to calm her anxiety. She was my playmate; we grew up together. I guarded her like her own shadow, never leaving her side. Our houses were just a street apart. She used to climb over my balcony, sneak into my room, and we would hold each other until dawn. In class and between classes, she followed me everywhere like a little shadow. Whenever she got stuck on a homework problem, she would act cute and whine until I explained it to her. Even when we occasionally argued, the second I stopped talking to her, she would immediately drop her pride and coax me into forgiving her. Every New Year’s Eve, we stayed up together to ring in the new year. Her wish every single year was to marry me. She made that wish for ten years straight. Everything changed in high school. It happened that summer. She went to an outdoor movie with some friends. On her way home, a massive thunderstorm broke out. She hadn’t seen me all day, her skin hunger flared up, and she was too weak to walk. When I found out, I rushed to get her. She was completely soaked, burning with a high fever, lying helplessly in my arms. She gripped my shirt tightly, whispering weakly, “Liam, don’t leave me alone.” My heart ached as I kissed her forehead. “Never.” Suddenly, a new line of text popped up in my vision. [If the current Aria could see the future—if she could see herself forcing Liam to cut ties with his family, and watching him get bullied without caring at all—she would absolutely despise her past self.] The text vanished quickly. 2. At first, I didn’t notice anything wrong. I thought I was just overthinking things. Until the new transfer student walked into our classroom. His name was Ethan. He came from a poor family and only managed to attend our elite school on a scholarship. As he walked past Aria with his long legs, I noticed a flash of stunning realization in her eyes. Ethan looked exactly like the male lead in a romance novel. Aria was captivated at first sight. He chose a seat in the back row by the window. He was a loner, yet somehow drew people in. From that day on, the number of times Aria initiated contact with me decreased drastically. And that’s when the bizarre bullet screen appeared again. [The male lead is here! His vibe is absolutely incredible.] [Look at how obsessed the female lead is. I am absolutely shipping them.] [Honestly, it kind of hurts to see the childhood best friend looking so sad. He’s really handsome too, you know.] [That’s just reality. The childhood best friend never stands a chance against the fated ‘new guy’.] Those few comments of sympathy were quickly buried under a mountain of text praising Ethan. Gradually, Ethan began to occupy every corner of Aria’s life. On the first day of the new semester, I tried to stop them from interacting. I grabbed Aria’s arm and insisted, “We’re walking home together after school.” It was the first time Aria ever agreed to me so reluctantly. Right at that moment, a group of girls surrounded Ethan, chattering excitedly, asking for his number and offering him gifts. Without a second thought, Aria sprinted over and grabbed Ethan’s arm. “Sorry, he’s already taken.” From then on, Aria walked home with Ethan every single day. On the second day, Aria gave the lunchbox she had made for me to Ethan. On the third day, Aria’s skin hunger flared up, and Ethan held her tightly. In the days that followed… I could only watch helplessly as they grew closer and closer. One day, I finally couldn’t take it anymore. I stopped Aria and told her I needed a hug too. She looked at me with pure disdain. “Liam, look at yourself. You’re covered in sweat and you stink. Ethan smells so good. I’d much rather hug him.” 3. Later, some local thugs started harassing Ethan. Aria, completely ignoring her own safety, rushed in to defend him. Watching those thugs vulgarly harass Aria drove me completely insane. I charged in and started fighting them. I thought my true feelings would finally be seen by Aria. But it was as if I didn’t even exist. She only cared about checking if Ethan was hurt. I had been knocked down. My expensive watch was shattered, and my wrist was scraped and bleeding, but I didn’t feel the physical pain. Watching Aria hold Ethan so tightly, my heart suddenly spasmed, feeling like it was being sliced open. Right then, I had a premonition. I was going to lose her. In college, they tested into the same university. After graduation, Ethan joined Aria’s parents’ company and became their youngest director. At business galas, Aria and Ethan always appeared as a couple. When her skin hunger flared up, I wanted to go comfort her, but I just watched as she hid herself in Ethan’s embrace. That spot used to belong exclusively to me. What chilled me even more was that even my parents started favoring Ethan. When my father’s company faced a crisis, it was Ethan who spotted the vulnerability in the contracts and helped us navigate the disaster. My parents started frequently inviting Ethan over for dinner. My mother personally cooked for him, even giving him the braised pork belly that was my absolute favorite dish. Everything I had was slowly being taken away by Ethan. All the love and privileges that originally belonged to me became his. Then, my parents arranged a marriage for me. The prospective bride was the daughter of the city’s wealthiest family, a woman of unparalleled beauty. I went to Aria, telling her I was going to reject the arranged marriage because she was the only one in my heart. But she looked at me with contempt. “Why don’t you just cut ties with your family then? That’s the only way to prove how much you actually love me.” In a fit of rage, I decided to sever all ties with my family. Even when I said I was giving up my entire inheritance, Aria’s eyes didn’t show a ripple of emotion. I remembered how it used to be. If I spoke even a single harsh word, she would endlessly try to coax and comfort me. I felt my heart slowly freezing over. The bullet screen warned me: [Liam Sterling actually cuts ties with his family over this, and ends up completely broke.] [He thinks doing this will make Aria feel bad for him. But she only feels guilty for a few days before the male lead completely ‘heals’ her.] [This actually ends up being a blessing in disguise for the main couple’s relationship. Their affection for each other skyrockets.] [Ethan stays by Liam’s parents’ side, supporting them. They’re so moved they want to adopt him as their godson.] [And Ethan happily agrees.] [In the end, Liam ends up living on the streets, while his parents and his childhood friend help Ethan build his business empire. They all say how incredibly lucky they are to have Ethan in their lives.] 4. Despair washed over me like a tidal wave. Did no one in this world truly care about me? Just because I wasn’t the ‘male lead’? Suddenly, a string of text caught my eye, completely riveting my attention. [The second male lead is an absolute idiot. Your arranged fiancée is literally the most beautiful woman in the business world.] [With her help, building your own business empire is basically a guaranteed success.] I rubbed my eyes in shock, thinking I was hallucinating. More comments flooded the screen like falling snow. [Exactly! She’s had a secret crush on the second male lead for years. When his career hits rock bottom, she silently supports him from behind the scenes, never showing her face.] [When the second male lead’s startup fails and he’s drowning in debt, she pays it all off for him instantly. When he tries to push her away, she uses gentle methods to make him stay. Every time he wants to leave, she quietly provides him with the absolute best resources, until he willingly chooses to stand by her side.] [Yeah, yeah! The author even wrote a bonus chapter for them. It’s basically a ‘Dominant CEO falls for me’ story, but she is so incredibly gentle with him.] These comments made my blood boil with excitement. To be honest, my lifelong dream had always been to build my own business empire. Standing in the study, looking at the crushing disappointment in my parents’ eyes, I suddenly realized how incredibly irrational cutting ties with my family was. Out in the living room, people were trying to persuade Aria. “Why don’t you try talking to him? If you say something, he’ll definitely listen.” “Yeah, he cares about you so much. He’ll consider whatever you tell him.” Aria stood there, her expression blank. She knew Liam too well. This was just a momentary impulse; there was no way he would actually cut ties with his family. If he really didn’t want the marriage, they just needed to communicate properly. She would figure out a way to solve it. But she couldn’t keep indulging him like this. It wasn’t fair to Ethan, and it would only make Liam more and more dependent on her. She needed to make him understand that life isn’t a game. She said softly, “Stop this. You’re making your parents very worried. “You need to have a proper talk with your parents about the marriage. But you need to be clear about one thing: even without this arranged marriage, we are just friends. “There will never be anything else between us.” Right at that moment, I turned around and took long strides toward my parents. Standing in front of them, I stated solemnly, “I’ve thought it through. I agree to this marriage. When can I meet the lady?” Aria’s expression instantly froze. “Liam Sterling, what kind of game are you playing now?” I completely ignored her. After careful consideration, throwing away my future for a woman who constantly sided with an outsider was absolutely not worth it. I emphasized again: “I have made my decision. I accept this marriage.” 5. I took my mother’s hand and said softly, “Mom, I’m serious. Please set up a meeting with her as soon as possible.” My mom froze for a moment, then burst into tears, hugging me tightly. “You terrified me just now.” Ethan’s face instantly darkened. I turned to look at him. “Ethan, what’s with that look? Are you disappointed that I changed my mind?” Everyone’s eyes immediately focused on Ethan. Ethan’s expression stiffened for a second before he calmly replied, “You’re misunderstanding. I’m just worried you’re making this decision too hastily.” His expression was composed, his tone firm. “Liam, I know you have misunderstandings about Aria and me. But I believe time will prove everything. I will use my own abilities to prove that I am worthy of her.” Aria looked at Ethan with eyes full of love, gripping his hand tightly. “Ethan, you’re the only one in my heart.” If it were before, seeing her confess her love to another man like this would have ripped my heart to shreds. But now, I just looked at Ethan and said, “Don’t misunderstand. I’m getting married soon. I haven’t had any feelings for her for a long time. “I’ve moved on.” I looked directly into Aria’s eyes and enunciated every word: “Aria, from this moment on, I will never interfere with your life again.” Aria was stunned. Then, a mocking smirk curled the corner of her lips. “Hah. Liam Sterling, you finally learned how to play hard to get? “I hope you can keep this backbone of yours.” Ethan looked serious. “Aria, there’s an important meeting at the company. We should head back.” Ethan always prioritized his career, and Aria greatly admired that about him. But this time, she was clearly distracted. It took her a long moment to snap back to reality. “Right. Let’s go.” She was absolutely certain that it wouldn’t be long before Liam came crawling back, clinging to her just like he always did. It was always the same routine. He was like a shadow she couldn’t shake off. No matter how hard she tried to push him away, he would never leave. There was no way he could just let go like this. He was probably just copying some trope from a TV drama, trying to play hard to get. Victoria Vance had returned from abroad. She was the most dazzling queen of the business world in the book. Every movement she made was elegant and composed, yet she carried an undeniable, overwhelming aura of authority. Let alone the declining Sterling family, even the currently prominent families in Shanghai couldn’t compare to her. She was likely here to discuss the details of the arranged marriage. For this meeting, I specifically changed into my most formal suit. When I pushed open the door to the reception room, she was already waiting. She was a woman of extraordinary presence. Her features were exquisite, her figure tall and elegant.

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My dad had a respectable job and always acted like a man who took responsibility. My mom didn’t have a high degree, and she was timid and afraid of conflict. So, when they divorced, I decisively chose to live with my dad. Not long after, my dad remarried. My new stepmom sold me to human traffickers. My mom crossed mountains and rivers, risking everything to find me and bring me back from the middle of nowhere. The moment we reunited, my mom held me and sobbed: “Peach, I’m so sorry! Mom failed to protect you!” My dad, in order to pay for his stepson’s expensive private school tuition, forced me to drop out of high school. My mom couldn’t win back custody, so she could only secretly slip me the tuition money she had painstakingly saved up. Eventually, I was pushed off a balcony by my stepbrother and died. My dad testified in court: “The girl committed suicide.” After I died, I floated in the air as a spirit. I saw my mom holding a sign with the word “Injustice” written in blood-red letters, kneeling outside the courthouse for days, refusing to leave… When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn. I was back on the exact day the judge asked me to choose between them. 1 In the courtroom, the judge called me in. “According to the law, since the child is over eight years old, we must respect her true wishes.” “You are already fourteen. You understand the circumstances of both your parents. Who do you choose to live with?” I had just been reborn, and my head was still a bit foggy. Thinking I was hesitating, my mom rushed to say, “Peach, come live with Mom. Mom can take good care of you.” My dad shot her a look of absolute disdain and said, “What kind of care can you provide? Are you going to feed my daughter scraps for the rest of her life?” “I already found a job! I can support Peach!” “With your education, how much can you possibly make? For the past dozen years, every single penny you spent was mine!” Listening to their argument, my mind gradually cleared. In my past life, I was a fourteen-year-old girl going through a rebellious phase. My mom was strict. She wouldn’t let me get extra ear piercings, dye my hair blonde, and definitely wouldn’t let me skip class to date boys. I found her incredibly annoying. My dad, on the other hand, rarely came home and basically never disciplined me. Whenever he did show up, he would just hand me a wad of cash and tell me to take my friends out for KFC buckets. So, when they were fighting for custody, I chose my dad without a second thought. Hearing my decision, my mom started crying uncontrollably. Her tears soaked her clothes. Her hair, her lips, her eyes… everything was covered in tears. She kept calling my name as she watched my dad smugly lead me away. Now, this scene was playing out again. Both my parents were staring at me with desperate, expectant eyes, waiting for my decision. “I choose Mom.” A look of pure, unadulterated shock and joy flashed across my mom’s eyes. My dad looked at me in utter disbelief. “But I have one condition! “I want to change my last name! I’m taking my mom’s last name!” 2 Outside the courthouse, my dad grabbed my arm. “Peach! What is wrong with you? My financial situation is infinitely better than your mother’s. You’ve always been a kid who knows how to weigh the pros and cons!” “Exactly. Because I know how to weigh the pros and cons, I would never choose you!” In my past life, my spirit hovered in mid-air, watching my own blood-soaked body being loaded into a body bag. My dad put on a pathetic show, kneeling on the ground and crying, telling the police that I committed suicide because the pressure of the SATs was too much for me. Total bullshit! I scored a 1550 on the SATs. What pressure did I have? It was his cheap stepson, who couldn’t even get into a community college, who pushed me off the balcony out of pure jealousy. If his stepson was the murderer, my dad was a complete and utter accomplice. Under the scorching sun, my mom held that “Injustice” sign, kneeling in front of the courthouse, ignoring the pointing and whispering of the crowds. Her knees were worn raw and bleeding, but she refused to leave, demanding justice for my death. If I chose him again in this life, I would literally be asking for a death sentence. “Peach, what do you mean by that?” “What do I mean? Do you really not understand?” I stared at him provocatively, making the hair on his arms stand up. My mom was also confused by my behavior. “William Vance. Let me jog your memory. Does the name Chloe Summers ring a bell?” My dad’s previously firm gaze instantly became evasive. “Who… who is that?” I sneered internally. Why is he pretending? 3 Chloe Summers was his college goddess. My dad chased her for four years and worshipped her for four years. After graduation, the Summers family refused to let them marry, forcing Chloe to marry into a wealthy, elite family instead. So, my dad, introduced by relatives, ended up marrying my mom. Years later, Chloe and her son were kicked out by that wealthy family with absolutely nothing. No one knew why. My dad, the ultimate simp, decisively stepped up to be the fallback guy. He subjected my mom to three years of severe emotional abuse and the silent treatment, forcing her to agree to a divorce so he could rush to marry Chloe. My mom might not have known the name Chloe Summers, but my dad certainly knew it better than anyone. “Peach, I know who she is. She’s your dad’s college classmate. I met her once when I went to pick your dad up from a college reunion. Let’s not bring up irrelevant people. Let’s just go home!” My mom tried to pull me away, but I wasn’t about to let my dad off the hook that easily. After today, I didn’t know if I’d ever see him again. If I didn’t make him squirm a little, it would be an insult to my tragic death in my past life. “Mom! Are you blind? Chloe Summers is his first love and his mistress!” My mom froze, but she didn’t look surprised. “You knew?” I always thought my mom was uneducated, slow-witted, and completely oblivious to my dad’s affairs. “Then why did you endure it for three years?” Three years of the silent treatment! My dad came home less than twenty times a year. When he did, he would just pack a few clothes, shove two thousand dollars into my hand, and rush back out the door. “Peach, Mom didn’t want you to be sad, so I kept it a secret. I didn’t want you to know your father was that kind of person. I didn’t want you to grow up with an inferiority complex.” “So, you suffered for three years… for me? “Just to maintain the illusion of a happy family, you lied to yourself like that?” My mom looked a little guilty under my stare, her hands clasped together, nervously rubbing her fingers. 4 Honestly, what right did I have to judge my mom?! In my past life, I was such a rebellious brat. Whenever my mom sat up late under the desk lamp, looking heartbroken, I called her dramatic and said she was just bored because she didn’t have a job. When my dad hung up on her countless times, I would make snide comments, saying she was a failure as a woman because she couldn’t even keep her own man. Whenever my mom left the house, it was never for more than an hour—just quick trips to the supermarket or the grocery store downstairs. But my dad? When he left, it was for a week minimum. He went to Dubai for business trips, he attended conferences at the World Trade Center… he was so important! I expressed more than once that Dad was way more important than Mom. So, my mom enduring three years without asking for a divorce… was truly entirely because of me! Thinking about this, I wanted to slap myself across the face. I looked at my dad, unable to suppress a cold laugh. “William Vance, do you see now?! Mom and I both knew about you screwing around! “Think about how arrogant and smug you were acting in that courtroom just now. Isn’t it hilarious? You looked like an absolute clown!” My dad was already feeling guilty. Hearing me lay it all out stripped him of his usual intimidating aura. He stood frozen in place, looking like a deflated balloon. 5 I linked arms with my mom, turned around, and hailed a cab to go home. “Peach, I’m so sorry. Because of me, you won’t be able to live in the big house anymore.” My mom looked at me guiltily, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “Your dad bought that house before we got married. The law protects pre-marital assets now. I couldn’t get a single piece of it.” I comforted her, telling her it was fine. We could rent an apartment. Even though she didn’t have a college degree, she was incredibly skilled at making handicrafts. I could help her start a social media channel. We definitely wouldn’t starve. But I still felt a knot of anger in my chest. My dad cheated during the marriage; he was clearly at fault! But in the end, he didn’t lose a single thing. He kept the house and the cars. Mom and I walked away with absolutely nothing but child support. And that child support would end the second I turned eighteen. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. Sensing my frustration, my mom said, “Proving infidelity is incredibly difficult, especially since your dad is resourceful and hid his mistress very well. Why did he give me the silent treatment instead of just asking for a divorce? He wanted to drag it out until I was completely emotionally drained, so he could eventually file for divorce citing ‘long-term separation’.” “I know. But Mom, don’t worry. I am confident that even though we didn’t get those assets, I will never, ever let him and Chloe’s family enjoy them in peace.” My mom smiled and said, “Alright! I have two working hands. I won’t let you suffer.” “Yeah! The best days for us girls are still ahead!” My mom happily started packing our bags. There was a sense of profound relief and joy radiating from her. But not me. In a corner she couldn’t see, I glared at my parents’ wedding photo on the wall, my face contorted with dark, vicious hatred. My mom didn’t know what I went through in my past life, and I didn’t want to tell her. In this life, she had let it go. But I would never easily let William Vance and his pathetic new family off the hook. 6 A few days later, I gathered all the necessary documents and went to the police station to legally change my last name. My mom said I didn’t actually need to go this far. Even though they were divorced, the blood relation between me and my dad couldn’t be severed. But I was adamant about changing it. His last name disgusted me. Just as I finished filling out the application form, I saw two familiar faces walk in. “What a small world. Is this the only police station in the entire city?” The voice was sickeningly sweet and coquettish. It was Chloe Summers. She walked in arm-in-arm with my dad. When she saw me, she dramatically rolled her eyes. My dad asked, “Peach, what are you guys doing here?” I waved the name-change application form in my hand and said, “Changing my last name, obviously. I explicitly stated this in court.” Hearing this, my dad’s face immediately darkened. “Do you have to take things to such extremes? I let your mother down, yes, but how did I ever let you down? Why do you insist on changing your last name?” “Why? Because it feels dirty!” I glanced at the hand Chloe had wrapped around my dad’s arm. A massive diamond ring was already sparkling on her finger. I remembered when my mom first married my dad, he was just a broke kid. Forget a diamond ring; their entire wedding was incredibly bare-bones. My dad promised that once he made it big, he would definitely buy her a proper wedding ring. Yet here I was, fourteen years old, and I had never seen this legendary “Emperor’s Diamond Ring.” One time, my mom finally brought it up, but my dad immediately shut her down with a few harsh words. “You don’t even work! Do you have any idea how much a diamond ring costs? Does my money grow on trees? “Besides, you’re a housewife doing chores all day. Wearing a ring would be inconvenient anyway!” My mom didn’t argue, and she never brought up the wedding ring ever again. 7 “The ink on the divorce decree isn’t even dry yet, and you’ve already got the wedding ring on. Dad, exactly how desperate are you? Can’t go a single day without a woman in your bed?” My dad looked incredibly uncomfortable, but Chloe snapped back first: “You’re only fourteen! Where did you learn such filthy language?! You act like a little street thug!” “Shut your mouth!” My mom stepped forward, blocking me. “A homewrecking mistress has no right to lecture my daughter!” My mom intentionally said the word “mistress” very loudly, drawing the attention of quite a few people in the busy station lobby. I saw my dad tug on Chloe’s hand. He was somewhat of a public figure in this city, and he clearly didn’t want to make a scene. Unfortunately for him, I absolutely did. I was just a fourteen-year-old girl right now. I had nothing to be afraid of. I immediately activated my Oscar-worthy acting skills and started bawling in the middle of the lobby. “Dad! Your mistress is yelling at me! Did you give her permission to do that?! “I thought my dad, William Vance, was a real man who stood tall and protected his family! But you’re just standing here letting your mistress bully your wife and daughter in a police station!” I screamed my dad’s full name as loudly as I could, and surprisingly, a man in the lobby actually recognized him. “Oh hey, isn’t this CEO Vance?” Seeing this, my dad had to force a calm expression and greet the man. The man looked at my mom standing next to me, then looked at Chloe standing next to my dad. His expression was incredibly complicated, but he still walked toward my mom. “Mrs. Vance, are you here running errands with the kid?” My mom engaged in polite, elegant small talk with the man. Her demeanor was graceful and poised—she didn’t look at all like the stereotype of a housewife who only knew how to do chores. My dad also joined the conversation, discussing some business matters with the man, completely leaving Chloe hanging on the side. I shot a sideways glance at Chloe. Her face was cycling between green and white. She looked incredibly uncomfortable. 8 In my past life, I lived with my dad and had to live under the same roof as Chloe. She constantly criticized me. She complained that I only picked the meat out of the dishes at dinner, she complained that I used too much toilet paper, she complained that I didn’t tutor her son with his homework. She said, “Peach Vance, can’t you see? In this house, you are the outsider.” Now, she was the one who was the unwanted outsider. “William, they called our number.” Chloe tugged on my dad’s sleeve, and the two of them walked to the counter under the contemptuous stares of everyone around them. I remembered my dad came to the police station to update the marital status on his household registry document. He had to change it to “Divorced” before he could legally marry Chloe. In my past life, I threw tantrums for days over this and even hid his registry document just to stop them from getting married. That made Chloe hate me with a burning passion, which led her to hire human traffickers to sell me into the mountains. This time, how could I let them get what they wanted so easily? I picked up my iced coffee, popped the lid off, and slowly walked up behind my dad. The exact moment my dad opened the registry booklet and presented the page to the clerk, I deliberately “tripped” and splashed the entire cup of coffee directly onto it. Then, amidst the gasps of the crowd, I frantically used my sleeve to “wipe” the coffee stains off the page. But I rubbed it incredibly hard, scrubbing the official document until it dissolved into a soggy, pulpy mess of wet paper. My dad roared, “Peach Vance, are you crazy?!” I replied coldly, “Watch your phrasing. My name is now Peach Sterling.” “You did that on purpose?!” “Of course!” My dad raised his hand, fully intending to slap me, but my mom reached out and blocked it mid-air. My mom gripped his wrist. He twisted and pulled for a long time but surprisingly couldn’t break free at all. “William Vance, never underestimate the physical strength of a stay-at-home mom. Especially a woman who has to carry a child and mop the floors every single day. Her arm strength is terrifying.” With a sharp flick of her wrist, my mom shoved William back several steps. The clerk yelled, “Hey, hey, hey! This is a police station! No fighting in here!” William quickly asked the clerk if he could get a replacement registry document, but was told the printer was out of official paper and he would have to wait until tomorrow. Chloe stomped her feet in frustration. Even though she desperately wanted to go crazy, she was intimidated by my mom’s presence and didn’t dare lay a hand on me. Seeing her expression made me want to laugh. “What’s wrong, Auntie Mistress? Are you in that much of a hurry? You finally managed to push out the original wife, and now you’re terrified that delaying your marriage license by one day will ruin your master plan?” Chloe muttered a few more curses before my dad dragged her away. After they were out of earshot, my mom finally asked me, “Peach, what was the point of doing that?” I knew full well that doing that was essentially useless. Even if I stole the document, I couldn’t stop those two scumbags from getting married. All I wanted to do was draw Chloe’s aggro. I needed her to view me as a massive threat so she would resort to the same drastic measures against me as she did in my past life. 9 A month later, I officially became Peach Sterling. Shedding the “Vance” name felt like taking a breath of fresh air. It was liberating. Calculating the timeline, today was the exact day Chloe would make her move. Today also happened to be her son Leo’s birthday. In my past life, when the three of them celebrated his birthday, I didn’t want to be a third wheel, so I asked my dad for some money, planning to eat out and come home late. Before my dad could even reach for his wallet, Chloe surprisingly jumped in, enthusiastically shoving a hundred-dollar bill into my hand. Smiling brightly, she told me to treat my classmates and that it was perfectly fine if I came home late. Whenever things are unnaturally perfect, there’s always a demon lurking behind the scenes. And just like that, I got kidnapped. This time, I was fully prepared. I wasn’t afraid of whatever tricks she had up her sleeve. I told my mom in advance that I was going to a classmate’s house after school to do homework, so she shouldn’t wait up for me for dinner. I also deliberately called my dad to ask for allowance money. Chloe, you better be smart about this. I practically handed you the perfect opportunity on a silver platter. You absolutely must make your move. After school, I slipped something into the deepest inner pocket of my jacket and started wandering the streets. Small alleys, dark side streets… wherever it was dark, I went. Wherever it was deserted, I slipped in. Finally, the pair of dark hands I had been eagerly anticipating arrived. Two men clamped a hand over my mouth and dragged me toward a waiting van. I put up a token struggle for a few seconds, then found a comfortable position and let them restrain me. Once in the van, the three traffickers started chatting. “Boss, I feel like something isn’t right.” “What’s not right?” “This little girl was way too easy to grab.” “That bitch said this kid is only fourteen. How hard could she possibly be to grab?” Two of the traffickers glanced back at me. I quickly stifled a yawn and continued to perform my best impression of a terrified, trembling victim.

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My mother was in the hospital, and a crisis at the office was screaming for my attention. I begged my husband, Logan, to take a meal to her. He didn’t even look up from his phone. “She’s your mother, Riley. Why is it my job to play delivery boy?” I practically got on my knees, swallowing my pride until he finally, begrudgingly, gave a stiff nod. When I finally sprinted back to the hospital, heart hammering against my ribs, I found my mother alone. Logan was nowhere to be found. He’d simply ordered DoorDash and left it at the nurses’ station. My mother, still weak and unable to feed herself, had sat there while her blood sugar plummeted to dangerous levels. Even then, she squeezed my hand, her voice a thin reed. “Don’t fight with him because of me, honey. He’s just… a busy man. Men have their own burdens.” A week later, she was discharged. Afraid of being a “burden” to our marriage, she refused my invitation to recover at our place. She took a bus back to her quiet house in the suburbs, alone. That same evening, my mother-in-law, Martha, was admitted for a routine procedure. Logan leaned against the kitchen island, his eyes searching mine with a sudden, needy intensity. “The doctor says Mom needs surgery. You’ll need to take a week off to look after her. You’re better at the hospital stuff anyway.” I felt a cold, sharp laugh bubble up in my chest, though my face remained a mask. My mother was an inconvenience. His mother was “our” mother. If he wanted the lines drawn so clearly, I decided right then to give him exactly what he asked for. 1 My mother hadn’t wanted the surgery. I’d forced her into it. I’d watched my father ignore the small aches until they became the cancer that took him, and I refused to let history repeat itself. On the first day of her hospitalization, Logan actually showed up. My mother looked at him like he was a visiting saint. She struggled to sit up, gesturing for him to take the only comfortable chair, offering him the fruit I’d just peeled for her. He stayed for ten minutes. By the time I returned from speaking with the surgeon, the chair was empty. I called him. “Where are you?” “Work’s blowing up, Riley. You’ve got this handled.” I hesitated, my voice trembling. “Logan, I’m an only child. I don’t have a sister to tag in. I need you here for the night shift so I can close my eyes for an hour.” Before we married, he’d promised my parents he’d be the son they never had. Now, his voice was tight with irritation. “Being a companion isn’t hard work. The nurses do the heavy lifting. I’ve got too much on my plate. I’ll try to stop by later, okay?” He didn’t. For the next two days, I was a ghost. During the day, I pushed my mother’s wheelchair through sterile corridors for pre-op tests. At night, I dozed in a plastic chair, waking every time she stirred. My body felt like it was made of lead. On the day of the surgery, Logan appeared again. I was helping the nurse slide my mother back onto the bed, her face pale and slack from the anesthesia. I felt a surge of relief—surely, he was here to take over. “I have a massive board meeting today,” he said, adjusting his cuffs. “Tie my tie for me? I can never get the Windsor knot right.” That was why he was here. Not for my mother. Not for me. For a knot in a piece of silk. As I looped the fabric around his neck, I kept my voice low. “I haven’t slept in forty-eight hours, Logan. Can you please stay tonight? Just one night.” He frowned, looking at his reflection over my shoulder. “I’m a guy, Riley. It’s awkward for me to help your mom with… you know, the bathroom stuff.” I went still. Part of me—the part that had been conditioned to be the “good wife”—actually thought, Maybe he’s right. He glanced at my sleeping mother, checked his watch, and walked out without a second look. That night was the longest of my life. As the morphine wore off, the pain flared. My mother didn’t want to wake me, so she suffered in silence, her hospital gown soaked through with cold sweat. When I realized what was happening, the guilt hit me like a physical blow. I didn’t close my eyes again. By day six, my mother finally regained a bit of appetite. She whispered that she wanted a specific chicken soup from a deli across town. I was halfway out the door when my boss called. A file was missing—a massive contract—and I was the only one who knew the filing system. My mother gripped my wrist. “Go,” she rasped. “Your job matters, Riley.” Torn and desperate, I called Logan. I begged. I pleaded. “I told you, I’m busy,” he snapped. “Busy doing what?” I yelled, the fatigue finally breaking my filter. “What is so important that you can’t bring a bowl of soup to my mother?” “I’ll be blunt,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “She’s your mother. Why are you always making her my problem?” My hand shook so hard I almost dropped the phone. I hung up. Ten minutes later, he called back, sounding bored. “Fine. I’ll get the soup. But tell her I can’t stay.” I told him she needed help eating. She couldn’t hold a spoon yet. When I finally finished at the office and raced back to the hospital, I found my mother grey-faced. The nurse was hanging a glucose drip. “Her blood sugar crashed,” the nurse said, her eyes judging. “No one fed her.” On the bedside table sat a cold plastic container of soup from a random takeout joint. No Logan. He’d just dropped it and left. I picked up the container and threw it into the trash can. The thud echoed in the silent room. My mother reached for my sleeve. “Don’t fight with him, Riley. He’s just focused on providing for your future.” Tears burned my eyes. She was dying of neglect in a hospital bed and still worrying about my marriage. I had to step out into the hallway just to breathe. I wiped my face, went downstairs, and bought a warm, soft porridge. I fed her myself, one spoonful at a time, until she drifted off. Finally, she was well enough to leave. When I checked the bill, the insurance coverage was better than expected. She only owed a few thousand dollars. She clutched the receipt, a tiny smile on her lips. “Good. I didn’t drag you down too much.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. No matter how much I begged her to stay with us, she insisted on going home. She didn’t want to “intrude.” I watched her through the window of the Greyhound bus, her small hand waving until the bus turned the corner. I stood on the sidewalk and let the tears fall. I went home and crashed into a deep, dreamless sleep. I woke up in the middle of the night to Logan’s phone blaring. He sat bolt upright, his face turning ashen. “Riley, wake up. It’s Mom. She’s in the ER.” 2 Outside the OR, Logan was a wreck. He paced the floor, his breathing shallow, looking like a lost child. In spite of everything, I tried to comfort him. I offered him water. I sat beside him. Then, he grabbed my hand, his grip bruising. “You need to take the week off work. You have experience with the hospital routine now. You know how to talk to the doctors. Mom will recover so much faster with you looking after her.” He added, “I’ll help you, of course.” Help me? The phrasing stung. As if Martha was my primary responsibility and he was just a volunteer. I opened my mouth to argue, but then the “Surgery in Progress” light flickered, and I swallowed my words. The surgery was a success. Martha was awake by the afternoon, though she was tethered to a catheter and couldn’t move. The moment she was moved to a ward, Logan’s father, Arthur, marched in with ten relatives in tow. They acted like they were at a tailgate party, loud and oblivious. The nurse eventually pulled me aside and told me to clear them out. When I asked Arthur to lower his voice, he huffed. “Some people have no respect for family,” he muttered loudly to a cousin. The other patients in the room were glaring at us. I felt the heat of embarrassment crawl up my neck and stepped out into the hall. Inside, I heard someone ask who was staying for the night. Logan’s cousin spoke up, her voice matter-of-fact. “Riley will stay, obviously. It’s her mother-in-law. Who else would do it?” No one questioned it. Not even Logan. It was the natural order of things in their world: the daughter-in-law serves. Logan was a “man”; he didn’t do “caregiving.” Eventually, the circus moved on. Logan told me he was taking the relatives out to dinner. “Can’t have them coming all this way on an empty stomach,” he said. After they left, a nurse gave me a dizzying list of instructions. I took notes, pushing down the simmering resentment. This was Martha’s health, after all. Logan returned late with a bland hospital meal for his mother. He didn’t bring anything for me. My head started to spin. My own blood sugar was dipping. I had to ask the lady in the next bed for a piece of toast just to keep from fainting. Logan looked briefly guilty and went out to buy a “Deluxe Combo” from the cafeteria. “Here, Riley. Eat up.” I’d barely taken two bites when Martha started calling out. She was itchy. She was thirsty. She was uncomfortable. By the time I settled her, my food was cold and my appetite was dead. The doctors needed an hourly log of her urine output. It was critical for tracking her kidney function. I found Logan on the small cot. “You need to help me with the log tonight. I can’t stay awake another twenty-four hours.” Guilt-tripped by his earlier forgotten meal, he actually agreed. Two hours later, Logan was snoring so loudly it shook the walls. I tried to shake him awake, but he just groaned and rolled over. I could have left it. I could have let the log stay empty. But I couldn’t do that to Martha. I stayed awake all night, measuring, recording, and watching the clock. The next morning, Martha woke up to find her “devoted” son sitting by her bed, while I had finally collapsed into a ten-minute nap on the chair. Her voice was sharp with disapproval. “Since when does the nurse sleep longer than the patient?” 3 My head was throbbing with a migraine. I’d slept for maybe thirty minutes total. I told Logan I was going home to shower and change, and that he needed to stay. Martha, looking much more energetic, called out as I reached for my bag. “Riley, I’m feeling so sticky. Could you give me a sponge bath before you go?” I looked at Logan. He looked at the ceiling. “I’m a guy, Mom. It wouldn’t be right.” Fine. I dragged my exhausted body to the basin, filled it with warm water, and scrubbed her down. I finally made it home and collapsed onto the bed. Ten minutes later, my phone rang. Logan couldn’t find the nebulizer. I told him where it was and hung up. Ten minutes later: How do you hook up the oxygen flow? Ten minutes later: Where did the nurse put the charts? In three hours, he called me ten times. My migraine intensified until I was nauseated. Finally, he whined, “Riley, I really can’t handle this. You need to come back.” When I walked into that hospital room, Logan looked at me like I was a life raft. Martha immediately waved him away. “Go on, honey. Riley’s here now. Go back to the office; I know how important your work is.” Logan patted my shoulder. “Thanks, babe. My boss has been riding me all morning. I’ll leave Mom in your capable hands.” The second the door closed behind him, Martha’s face contorted. “Quick! Get the bedpan!” She’d been holding it. She’d waited for her son to leave so he wouldn’t have to deal with the “unpleasantness” of her bodily functions. She was a “good mother”—she shielded her son from the reality of illness, while using me as a human shield. The smell was overwhelming. I looked at the mess, the stained sheets, the bedpan, and I actually gagged. Martha took offense instantly. “Riley! I’m your mother. How can you be so heartless?” I’m your mother. Logan’s voice echoed in my head: She’s your mother. Why are you always making her my problem? The room started to spin. I walked out into the hallway, fumbling for my phone. A professional-looking woman in scrubs—a private health aide—was walking by. 4 By the time I walked back in, the aide had cleaned everything up with practiced efficiency. She saw the state I was in and put a hand on my arm. “You look like you’re about to break, sweetie,” she said. “I do this for a living. If you need a break, here’s my card.” I was mid-sentence, asking about her hourly rate, when Martha shrieked. “No! I don’t want a stranger touching me! I want my family!” She glared at me, her eyes wet with staged tears. “You’d do it for your own mother, but for me, you want to hire a servant? You’re so unfilial!” The woman in the next bed chimed in. “She’s right, dear. It’s a bit selfish, isn’t it?” I turned to Martha. “I’ve been awake for days. I am physically failing. This woman is a professional. She knows how to do this better than I do.” “It’s a waste of money!” Martha barked. “You just don’t care about me. When I took care of my mother-in-law, I didn’t sleep for two weeks. We didn’t even have these fancy cots back then. Young women today are so soft. You can’t handle the slightest bit of hardship.” I realized then: this wasn’t about care. It was about power. She had suffered under her mother-in-law, and now she wanted her turn to hold the whip. I stood at the foot of the bed, my voice ice-cold. “Do you know how many times Logan came to help when my mother was in this same hospital last week?” Martha paused, then sniffed. “Logan is a son-in-law. It’s a miracle he went at all. You can’t expect a man to do nurse’s work.” “He didn’t even stay to feed her,” I said. “He sent DoorDash.” “He’s a provider!” Martha snapped. “He’s out there making a living. Why would he waste his time wiping tables?” Where was that money, though? He hadn’t spent a dime on my mother’s care. I looked at her—her entitlement, her casual cruelty—and I saw Logan. The apple hadn’t just fallen near the tree; it was rooted in the same bitter soil. I had spent our entire marriage believing that if I were the “perfect” daughter-in-law, Logan would eventually see my worth. That he would step up when my family needed him. I was a fool. To him, his mother was “our” responsibility. My mother was mine alone. I pulled out my phone and sent Logan a text. [Your mother, your problem. I’m done.]

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The silence that follows a lost pregnancy isn’t just quiet; it’s heavy. It’s a physical weight that presses against your lungs until you’re convinced you’ll never draw a full breath again. After the miscarriage, I didn’t just fall into depression; I drowned in it. The darkest night was when I found myself in the bathroom, the cold edge of a kitchen knife pressed against the pulse in my neck. Grant didn’t scream. He didn’t call 911. Instead, he simply picked up another blade, held it to his own throat, and offered a twisted, tragic smile. “If you go, June, I’m going with you. I’ll be right behind you in the dark.” Because of those words, I fought. I dragged myself back from the ledge a thousand times, clinging to the idea that our love was a tether strong enough to keep us both grounded. Until today. We were walking out of the clinic, and a wave of nausea hit me so hard I began to retch. I reached for Grant’s hand, seeking the anchor I’d relied on for a decade. But he didn’t hold me. He let go, his fingers slipping away as if I were something contagious. He let out a sharp, jagged laugh. “Physical symptoms again? Honestly, June, give it a rest.” I froze, wiping my mouth, my eyes stinging. “Grant?” “It’s been five years since we lost that baby,” he said, his voice cold, devoid of the warmth that used to be my sanctuary. “You’ve turned our life into a funeral march. Meanwhile, Valerie went to the most dangerous corners of the world just to clear her conscience for what happened, and she never uttered a single complaint.” The name hit me like a physical blow. Valerie. Our former house manager—the woman who had been a shadow in our home before the tragedy. “What are you talking about?” I whispered, a sickening dread pooling in my stomach. He climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door with a finality that made me flinch. He looked relieved, like a man who had finally shed a heavy coat. “It means I’m done. I’m going back for her.” My hand tightened around the small, crumpled paper in my pocket. The surprise I had been trembling to tell him—the tiny flicker of hope the doctor had just confirmed—would stay hidden. It seemed there was no longer a home for it to come back to. 1 Tears tracked down my face, turning icy in the wind whipping through the half-open window. Grant reached over, his thumb brushing a stray drop away with a tenderness that felt like a mockery. “Don’t cry,” he murmured. “I’m being honest with you. You should be happy I’m not lying anymore.” He let out a soft, mirthless chuckle. “Since we’re laying it all out, you should know the truth. Five days ago, when I told you I was on a business trip in San Francisco? I wasn’t. I was with her. We spent the night under the stars in Big Sur.” The world tilted on its axis. I remembered that night. I had fainted from exhaustion and stress, waking up in an ER bed. When Grant finally showed up, his eyes were bloodshot, his face haggard. I thought he had been driving all night, frantic with worry for me. I had held his hand and promised him—swore to him—that I would stay strong, that I wouldn’t do anything reckless. I thought he was suffering with me. But he had been tangled in the sheets with another woman. “After you got sick, my entire life started revolving around your grief,” he continued, eyes fixed on the road. “But Valerie has been out there, alone, suffering in silence for so long. I can’t turn my back on her anymore.” The pain in my chest was so sharp I could barely speak. “So why tell me this now? Why kill me like this?” His hand paused on my cheek. “She’s too good for her own sake. She doesn’t want to take your place, but I won’t let her live in the shadows like some dirty secret. You’re still my wife, June. But she’s going to be part of my life, too. I want her in the light.” I looked at him, my heart literally bleeding. “And if I don’t accept that?” He laughed, a short, dismissive sound that told me my consent was an afterthought. “The house, the cars, the accounts—take your pick. I’ll make sure you’re comfortable. I’ll even keep her out of your sight if that’s what it takes. But a divorce? Don’t even dream of it.” I stared at his profile, his jaw set with the arrogance of a man who owned everything, including me. I felt like I was suffocating. We had been together since we were kids. He was my entire world. When people mocked me for being the “illegitimate daughter” of a disgraced family, Grant was the one who threw the first punch to defend me. When we had nothing, I worked three jobs, coming home with a fever so high I nearly developed myocarditis, just so he could have the seed money for his first startup. When he finally made it, he told me to quit. “You have me now,” he’d said, his eyes full of a devotion I thought was unbreakable. “I never want you to suffer again. Trust me.” I did. I believed in the version of him that loved only me. He just forgot to mention that his heart was now an open floor plan. I gripped the hem of my coat, wanting to believe this was a nightmare. I reached into my pocket, my fingers brushing the ultrasound photo. Maybe if he saw this… maybe if he knew… But before I could pull it out, his phone buzzed. “Grant… I shouldn’t be calling,” Valerie’s voice came through the Bluetooth, thick with tears and a practiced vulnerability. “My car broke down on the shoulder of the highway… I don’t know what to do…” I reached for his arm, a silent plea. Grant didn’t even look at me. “Don’t be scared,” he told her, his voice dropping into that protective register that used to belong to me. “I’m coming. Stay inside and lock the doors.” He didn’t offer another explanation. He just pulled over to the curb and said two words. “Get out.” The weight of those words hit me harder than any blow. “Grant,” I choked out, “have you forgotten how we lost our first child? Have you forgotten what she did?” 2 The air in the car turned frigid. Grant didn’t flinch. “June, that was an accident. Move on.” I sat there, stunned. I could almost taste the herbal tea she had “accidentally” brewed for me back then—the one filled with ingredients that triggered my contractions. I could still feel the phantom fire in my abdomen. “It wasn’t an accident,” I hissed, grabbing his sleeve. “She did it on pur—” He shoved my hand away. “Enough with the theatrics. Valerie is waiting.” He practically dragged me out of the car. I stood on the sidewalk, shivering as he sped away, the taillights disappearing into the gray Seattle mist. The cramps started then. A dull, rhythmic throbbing that sent me stumbling back toward the clinic. The doctor’s face was grim an hour later. Between the years of chronic depression and the sudden physical and emotional trauma, the pregnancy was non-viable. This baby—the one I had prayed for, the one I thought was a miracle—was gone before I could even name it. The old grief returned, a familiar monster. I tried calling Grant, my hands shaking so hard I dropped the phone twice. All I got was his voicemail. Over and over. When I finally caught a cab home, I saw his car in the underground garage. He wasn’t alone. “Grant, I lied to you… I just wanted to see if you’d really come,” Valerie was whispering inside the car. She leaned in, her lips finding his. I watched his throat move as he swallowed, his resolve crumbling as he kissed her back with a hunger that broke what was left of me. They were frantic, tearing at each other. My eyes landed on the blue-and-white silk tie wrapped around Valerie’s wrist. It was the one I’d bought him for our tenth anniversary. The world felt like it was liquefying beneath my feet. I screamed—a raw, primal sound—and began pounding on the car window. The door opened, and I lunged for Valerie, my hand raised to strike. But Grant caught my wrist, his grip like a vice. “June! If you want to hit someone, hit me. But you will not touch her.” Valerie cowered behind him, her eyes flashing with a hidden, triumphant gleam. “How can you do this?” I sobbed, my voice cracking. “How can you look at her and not see our dead child?” Grant looked at me, and for a second, I thought I saw a flicker of regret. Then, he let out a cold, mocking laugh. “June, was that even my kid?” The world went silent. My brain felt like it had short-circuited. “You were working at that lounge back then,” he said, his voice dripping with a newfound cruelty. “Who knows whose it was? I was too poor to care at the time, so I didn’t blame you.” He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at my own reflection in the side mirror—pale, disheveled, a ghost of the woman I used to be. “I gave you my name. I gave you a life. I didn’t care that you carried someone else’s mistake. But this constant drama? I’m bored of it.” “You don’t believe me?” I whispered. He didn’t answer. He just looked at the fresh hickey on his neck and pushed me aside. I lost my balance, my shoulder slamming into the side mirror. The glass shattered, the shards slicing through my coat and into my skin. He didn’t even check on me. “Another stunt?” he sighed. “June, if you keep this up, I won’t have any affection left for you at all.” He drove away with her. I stood in the dark, watching the exhaust fumes fade. I started to laugh, a jagged sound that turned into a sob. I picked up a piece of the broken mirror, the edge sharp and inviting, and pressed it deep into my wrist. 3 In the haze of blood loss, I drifted back to the night I met him. He was working bar-back at a dive in the city, and I was the “trashy” illegitimate daughter some prep-school elites had brought along to humiliate. He was the one who broke a bottle over a table when they started saying things no girl should hear. He grabbed my hand and we ran through the snow, laughing. “Don’t be afraid,” he had said, looking back at me with eyes full of fire. He gave me the only warmth I’d ever known. But that fire cost us everything. He lost his job; I lost my place in my family’s shadow. We lived in a condemned apartment, huddled together under thin blankets. He promised me a home. When he collapsed from exhaustion working construction and couldn’t get paid, I bit my tongue and took a job at an exclusive lounge. High-end, “bottle service,” where the tips were fast if you could handle the sharks. I’m allergic to alcohol—severely. But I forced myself to down drinks with clients to hit my quotas, just to pay Grant’s hospital bills. I’d come home shaking, covered in hives, and he would just hold me, his eyes red with unspoken guilt. We moved cities. We fought for every inch of success. I played the “hostess,” smoothing his path with the connections I made in the nightlife. And then came Valerie. He brought her in as a house manager to help me during my first pregnancy. I was naive. I missed the way her fingers brushed his when she served him coffee. I missed the longing in her gaze. Until the night I saw them. A kiss in the hallway. We nearly destroyed the house that night. He cried. He knelt at my feet and begged. “It was a moment of weakness, June. I love you. We have a baby coming. Please.” Valerie knelt too, claiming she was obsessed, begging not to be fired because she had nowhere to go. I was soft. I let her stay in the guest house. He stayed away from her after that. Or so I thought. But his phone would light up in the dead of night. Months of texts from her—unanswered, but not blocked. A silent permission for her to keep loving him. The night I finally broke and smashed his phone, I went into early labor. The tea Valerie brought me—the “soothing” tea—ended everything. I wanted her gone. I wanted her to pay. But Grant sent her away “for her own safety,” protecting her from my wrath. The betrayal became a thorn in our marriage. We stopped being intimate. The second pregnancy was a miracle I fought for. And now, it was over. I woke up in a hospital bed, the familiar emptiness in my womb more painful than the stitches in my wrist. I felt nothing but a cold, dead numbness. I picked up my phone and sent one message. Grant, I want a divorce. 4 I waited for days at our empty house. No reply. Instead, I got a video from an unknown number. A field of roses. Grant on one knee, sliding a massive diamond onto Valerie’s finger. I looked down at the tarnished silver band hanging from a chain around my neck. We were so poor when we got “married” that we bought it at a flea market. He had looked into my eyes and promised me the world. “I’m going to replace this with the biggest diamond in the world one day, June. I’m going to tie you to me forever.” The diamonds came, but the promises evaporated. The front door opened. Valerie walked in, catching me staring at the old ring. She laughed. “June, honestly. Why are you still holding onto that trash? It’s pathetic.” She stepped closer, her eyes scanning my flat stomach. “No wonder he’s leaving. You can’t even keep a baby alive. You’re a cursed woman.” “Shut up!” I screamed. The grief boiled over. I lunged at her, grabbing her hair and slamming my hand across her face. She didn’t fight back. She just smirked. A second later, I was shoved aside so hard I hit the floor. “June! Are you insane? You’re acting like a goddamn lunatic!” Grant stood over me, his face twisted in disgust. I was shaking, cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. He looked at my pale face and softened for a fraction of a second, reaching out. But Valerie beat him to it. She dropped to her knees in front of me, sobbing. “I’m so sorry, June! Hit me again if it makes you feel better! I’ll leave, I won’t take the ring, just please don’t hate him—” Grant’s face hardened. “You hit her over a ring? A piece of jewelry I bought for her?” “He’s my husband, Valerie,” I choked out. “June is just lonely, Grant,” Valerie sobbed. “She has no job, no kids… she’s bored.” Grant took a deep breath. “You’ve spent too much time in this house rotting. You need to get out. My firm has a dinner tonight with some high-stakes investors. You’re going. You’re going to be the charming ‘Mrs. Grant’ one last time and help me close this deal.” “She’s not well, Grant…” Valerie purred. “She can drink,” Grant said coldly. “Everyone knows June is the best at working a room. You’ve been ‘sick’ long enough. Get ready.” I looked at him, my voice a whisper. “Grant… the baby is gone. Truly gone this time.” He didn’t even blink. “How long are you going to use that excuse? One baby dies and you want the whole world to stop? People lose kids every day. Move on.” The words were a blade to the heart. “I’m taking Valerie on a trip,” he said, turning his back on me. “Decide what you want to do while I’m gone. But tonight, you go to that dinner.” I was forced into a dress and driven to a private lounge. The men there were vultures. They pushed drinks on me, their hands wandering. “I thought Mrs. Grant was a pro,” one of them sneered, pinning me against the booth. “Come on, one more shot.” “I’m allergic,” I gasped, struggling. “Grant said to give you the full experience,” the man whispered, his hand sliding up my thigh. “He said you liked it rough.” The humiliation was a tidal wave. As I fought him off, I felt a warm, terrifying gush of red. The surgical site from my miscarriage had torn. “Blood… she’s bleeding!” someone yelled. … Grant was at the airport, checking his phone. He was waiting for a call—a report from the bodyguards that I had behaved, that I was “broken in” again. But the call never came. He opened his messages and saw the one from three days ago. Grant, I want a divorce. And then, a new one from a blocked number: a photo of the lounge floor, covered in red.

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