Category: English

My husband, Ethan, who eloped to Europe with his little mistress five years ago, was in the terminal stage of lung cancer. Right before he died, he endured a ten-hour flight, dragging his half-dead body back to me. Holding onto his very last breath, he stared at me with fake devotion, leaned in, and whispered in my ear: “Chloe, I know you have a good heart. After I’m gone, please… please take care of Hailey and our baby…” I couldn’t believe this asshole had the nerve to make such a shameless request on his deathbed. I let out a cold laugh. “Sure. I’ll make sure they are very well taken care of.” The moment Ethan drew his last breath, I immediately called someone to drag him to the crematorium. I wasn’t going to waste a single penny hiring a proper hearse for his cursed corpse. I wrapped him in a ragged bedsheet and called a local junk removal guy. I handed him $50 to toss the body into the back of his rusty pickup truck and drive it to the crematorium. At the crematorium, I completely ignored the judgmental stares of the staff and said directly: “Give me the cheapest cremation package. Just burn him to ashes, that’s all I care about.” While Ethan’s body was literally smoking inside the furnace, his beloved little princess, Hailey, rushed in. She collapsed right outside the cremation room, wailing like a banshee, snot and tears dripping down her face. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she was Ethan’s rightful wife. I felt a surge of petty satisfaction. Wow, quite the performance. Ethan really didn’t spoil you for nothing these past few years. Hailey was holding a baby in her arms, and the poor thing was looking around, completely confused. Once she was done with her dramatic crying session, Hailey wiped her tears and walked straight up to me. She pointed her freshly manicured hand at me and demanded, “Venmo me $200 first. The baby is out of formula.” I burst out laughing on the spot. “Your baby is out of formula? How is that my fucking problem?!” Hailey’s eyes widened. “Chloe Miller, don’t play dumb with me!” “Ethan begged you to take care of us before he died!” “If my baby starves to death, how are you going to face his ghost?!” I casually toyed with my Gucci bag. “He did say that before he kicked the bucket. But—” I smirked, looking her up and down. “I never agreed to it.” “He cheated on me, and now he wants me to raise his mistress and love child? Please, I’m not insane.” Hailey got frantic, her voice screeching to a higher pitch. “What do you mean love child! Chloe, do you have a conscience?!” “You are barren! You couldn’t give Ethan a child to carry on the Carter family legacy. It was me, Hailey, who gave him a son! I did your job for you! I fulfilled your duty as the daughter-in-law of the Carter family!” The more she spoke, the more arrogant she became, practically rolling her eyes to the ceiling. “If it weren’t for me, you would be the disgrace of the Carter family!” “You should be grateful to me! You should serve me delicious food and help me raise Ethan’s son! Do you get it?!” She was right about one thing—I was medically unable to have children. But the Carters were just a bunch of hillbillies from a rundown farmhouse in a middle-of-nowhere small town, where they literally raised pigs in the backyard. They weren’t some royal family. What “legacy” was there to inherit? Inherit their poverty? I smiled coldly. “Too bad I have no money! Didn’t you two steal everything I had?” I wasn’t lying. Five years ago, right before they eloped, they took advantage of the fact that I was teaching a class and robbed my house blind. My Chanel lambskin bag! My Van Cleef & Arpels bracelet! My designer fur coat! All of it became the capital for their luxurious, wild life abroad. Before they left, Hailey even kicked my dog. My poor golden retriever was so traumatized he didn’t eat properly for three days. Hearing me say “no money,” Hailey’s eyes darted to my bag again. She pointed at my Gucci bag. “If you don’t have money, how can you afford such an expensive bag?” “It’s a fake.” She then pointed to my red Audi parked outside the crematorium. “If you don’t have money, how do you drive such a nice car?” “It’s a rental.”

Hailey was so choked up with anger she couldn’t say a word. Suddenly, the baby in her arms started crying from hunger. Hearing the baby cry, Hailey’s arrogant attitude instantly vanished. She took a step closer to me, her voice softening. “Look at how hungry the baby is. Just give me some cash for formula.” “I’ve been a stay-at-home mom these past few years. All the money we spent was Ethan’s.” “Who knew he would suddenly get lung cancer? He spent every last cent on treatments and even sold our apartment! He didn’t leave us a single dime!” “You know I didn’t even finish high school. I can’t find a job to support a baby.” “Ethan told me to come to you before he died. He said you are sweet and kind, and that for the sake of your marriage, you wouldn’t abandon his child.” With that, she lifted the crying baby toward my face, trying to play the pity card. I took a glance. The baby was actually quite chubby and cute, with rosy cheeks. He was rooting around with his tiny mouth, looking for milk. Adorable. Too bad… He wasn’t mine. If he starved, it had nothing to do with me. “I don’t have money. Believe it or not.” I threw those cold words at her, turned around, and walked away. “Wait!” Hailey quickly blocked my path. Seeing that her pity act didn’t work, panic flashed in her eyes. She slipped a heavy, thick gold bracelet off her wrist and practically begged, “This was the token of love Ethan gave me. It’s a Carter family heirloom. I couldn’t bear to sell it. Can I leave this with you as collateral? Just lend me some money to buy formula first…” Unbelievable. I was married to Ethan for seven years, and I never knew his family had a “gold heirloom.” I didn’t expect such a nice thing to end up on her wrist. “Oh, this precious thing is the symbol of your beautiful love. I wouldn’t dare to take it!” Hailey panicked and thrust the baby closer to me again. “Chloe Miller! Look at how cute this baby is! Do you really have the heart to let such an innocent baby starve?!” “Of course I do. I’m not his mother!” I left her with those words and drove away, leaving Hailey standing there in utter shock.

After cremating Ethan and brushing off Hailey, my mood had been absolutely fantastic for the past few days. I was having dinner at home, humming a song, when suddenly, there was a loud knock on my door. I looked through the peephole. A local police officer was standing outside. Next to him were Ethan’s parents, both looking incredibly sullen. Hailey was holding the baby, hiding behind Ethan’s mother, Margaret, sobbing dramatically like a victim in a soap opera. The moment I opened the door, Margaret barged in aggressively, pointing her finger at my face and screaming— “Chloe Miller! Where did you bury my son?!” “Oh, you mean that?” I raised an eyebrow calmly, walked over to the trash can, fished out a box, and threw it at Margaret’s feet. “Here. Your son’s ashes. Take them and get out of my sight before I throw them into the dumpster.” “You… you…! How dare you put my son in a cheap cardboard box!” Margaret lost her mind, lunging at me. The police officer had to hold her back. I pointed at the box with a bright smile. “Hey, look closely. That’s not a cheap cardboard box. That’s a high-end Chanel shoe box!” “Your son got to lie in Chanel after he died. Honestly, he lived a successful life!” Hearing this, Margaret gasped, her eyes rolling back as she fainted into her husband, George’s, arms. I didn’t bother looking at her and politely turned to the police officer. “Officer, how can I help you?” I glared at Hailey, then smiled at the cop. “It’s not illegal for me to refuse to raise my ex-husband’s mistress and their love child, right?” “No, no,” the officer replied, looking like he was enjoying the drama. “I’m not here for that.” He pointed at Margaret. “This lady claims that the apartment you are living in right now was her son’s pre-marital property.” “Now that her son is dead, and since you refuse to help raise the child, she wants to reclaim this apartment so she can sell it to support her grandson.” “She called me here today to supervise your eviction.” “Exactly! It means pack your bags and get the hell out!” Hailey added triumphantly. Hearing the word “eviction,” I suddenly got excited. This apartment was indeed Ethan’s personal property before we got married. According to the law, after his death, I really had no right to keep it. Although the Carters were dirt poor, Ethan was quite a handsome guy when he was younger. With his curly hair and green eyes, he used to charm a lot of girls. He had been a sugar baby for a wealthy older woman back in the day. When she got tired of him and wanted to dump him, he wouldn’t let her go. To get rid of him, the wealthy woman gave him this apartment as a parting gift. Later, he hid this shameful past and used his handsome face to deceive me—a naive girl who had just graduated from college. He told me he bought this apartment because he won a lottery. He also brainwashed me into believing he was a devoted child-free guy who didn’t care about my infertility. Just like that, I moved into this apartment with millions of dollars in wedding funds my parents had worked their entire lives to save for me. I moved in with beautiful dreams of a happy marriage, only to be scammed until I almost had nothing left.

“Officer, if this apartment really belonged to Ethan, I would gladly pack up and leave.” “However,” I pulled a property deed from my nightstand and handed it to the cop with a smile. “Take a look. The legal owner of this apartment is actually my dad.” The officer took the deed, checked it, and nodded at me. “Yes, the property is indeed registered under Arthur Miller.” “Impossible! That’s impossible!!!” “My son worked so hard serving that rich woman to get this apartment! How could…” Margaret, who had just “fainted,” sprang back to life like a coiled spring. She snatched the deed from the officer’s hand. When she saw the words: Property Owner: Arthur Miller Ownership: Sole Ownership She started pacing around the living room, stomping her feet in a frenzy. “How is this possible!” “Officer, you need to investigate her! This deed must be fake!” Hailey was also dumbfounded. She grabbed the deed, stared at it, and her face went completely pale. Ethan’s dad, George, reached out to support her, but after a timid glance at his wife, Margaret, he quickly pulled his hand back. I smiled at Margaret. “The deed is real. Your son voluntarily gifted this apartment to my father.” I pulled out a signed Property Gift Agreement from the drawer and tossed it at Margaret. “See for yourself. Is that your son’s signature?” Margaret was completely devastated. She collapsed onto the floor like a puddle of water, muttering, “How… how did this happen…” The police officer, fully invested in the gossip now, asked, “Ms. Miller, what exactly is going on here?” I smiled and opened my laptop, playing a video from five years ago. It was the security footage from my living room. In the video, Hailey and Ethan walked into my apartment and started looting the place like bandits. My Chanel bag—taken! My Van Cleef & Arpels bracelet—taken! My designer fur coat—taken! Just like that, under the bright light of day, my millions of dollars worth of wedding gifts were stuffed into their trash bags. Ethan never dreamed that I had security cameras installed. I had originally installed them to watch my dog while I was at work, but they ended up capturing their shameless theft. “Officer, these luxury goods were pre-marital assets gifted by my parents. Ethan stole and sold them. Does that count as grand theft and trafficking stolen goods?” “Absolutely,” the officer nodded firmly. “Exactly.” I smirked at Hailey. “Did you really think I wouldn’t do anything about it?” “Right after you two ran away, I hired a private investigator to track you down.” “I had the investigator warn Ethan: if he didn’t return my things, I would hand the footage to the police. Stealing millions of dollars worth of goods is enough to put both of you in federal prison for a very long time!” “Ethan was scared out of his mind. He told me he had already sold everything and deposited the money into Hailey’s bank account.” “To avoid prison, he had no choice but to transfer the title of this apartment to my dad as compensation.” I gave Hailey a sweet, dazzling smile. “In fact, I should thank you, Hailey!” “Over the past five years, the housing market in this area boomed. This apartment is now worth over two million dollars! It’s worth way more than the stuff you stole!” Hailey’s eyes went wide, and she fainted for real this time.

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When the Summer family finally dragged me back to their mansion, I had just finished a warm-up session at Marcus’s boxing gym. I stood in their pristine living room, covered in a sun-kissed tan with defined, pumping muscles. My biological parents, who had clearly prepared a whole speech to humiliate me, froze in dead silence. They had brought me back for one reason: an arranged marriage. They wanted me to marry the heir of the Vance family—Damian Vance. Rumor had it that he was a violent psychopath who had already hospitalized or terrified ten of his previous fiancées. Chloe, the adopted daughter who had been fake-crying on the sofa, stared at my twitching biceps. Her tears instantly dried up. She trembled and shrank behind our brother. “Julian… are you sure Damian is the one who’s going to bully her?” Julian looked down at his own slender wrists, then at my bulky, shredded physique. He silently took a step back. I jumped on the spot, throwing two lightning-fast shadow punches into the air. “So, I heard this guy has a nasty temper and loves throwing wild hooks?” My biological father, Richard, let out an awkward cough. “Yes… he is… extremely violent.” I slapped my thigh, a massive grin spreading across my face. “Holy shit, why didn’t you say so earlier? This is perfect! I was literally just looking for a decent sparring partner.”

I had lived for twenty years, and I honestly never expected to be some long-lost billionaire’s daughter. But what I expected even less was that my biological parents only brought me back to use me as a sacrificial lamb for a business merger. Wearing my sweat-soaked tank top, I slammed a one-hundred-pound barbell plate onto the Summers’ million-dollar marble floor. Tiny cracks instantly spiderwebbed across the polished stone. The entire living room fell dead silent. My biological parents, who had prepared a lecture on “high-society rules” to put me in my place, were now staring blankly at my engorged biceps. Eleanor, my biological mother, was the first to react. Pinching her nose in disgust, she took a step back. “Roxy! Is this how that street coach raised you? You reek of sweat and look completely savage! You don’t have a single ounce of femininity!” Richard, my biological father, kept his face dark. He didn’t bother beating around the bush and threw a marriage contract onto the table. “Enough. Let’s make this quick. Our family’s real estate empire is facing a massive liquidity crisis. We need the Vance family’s bailout. Damian Vance is looking for a wife. Since you’re back, you’re taking Chloe’s place.” I raised an eyebrow. On the way here, the chauffeur had given me the rundown on this Damian Vance. Supposedly, the guy had severe intermittent explosive disorder and a serious penchant for violence. He was completely unpredictable. He had driven away ten fiancées, and rumor had it two of them were still recovering in the ICU. Simply put, whoever married him was going to be a human punching bag. Chloe, who had been sobbing in the corner of the sofa, suddenly stopped crying. She looked at my thighs, which were wider than her waist, and then at the bulging veins on my arms as I casually spun the barbell plate with one hand. She scrambled behind Richard, trembling. “Dad… wait. No matter how violent Damian is, he’s still just a human.” Chloe’s voice shook. “If Roxy goes… Damian might actually get killed. Shouldn’t we… leave the man a survival option?” Julian sneered, pointing a finger directly at my face. “Chloe, you’re overthinking this! She’s just a white-trash girl from the slums. What does she have besides brute force? Damian is surrounded by elite bodyguards. What could she possibly do?” He glared at me. “Roxy, let me warn you. Don’t think you’re hot shit just because you can fight. Once you’re at the Vance estate, you better lock up your savage attitude. Even if he tortures you, you will smile and take it! Otherwise, you’ll drag our entire family down with you!” I stared at Julian coldly, cracking my knuckles one by one. Crack. Crack. Crack. Julian flinched, his face turning pale as he stumbled two steps backward. “That’s enough!” Richard slammed his hand on the table, pulling something out from behind him and tossing it onto the floor. It was an old, battered pair of red boxing gloves. My pupils dilated. “Roxy, don’t think I don’t know what you’re planning,” Richard said, looking down at me with pure malice. “Your underground-fighter adoptive dad, Marcus, runs a pathetic little gym in South Brooklyn, right? It just so happens that I bought the land deed to that entire block.” He stepped on the red boxing gloves, grinding his expensive leather shoe into them. “If you don’t want your useless adoptive father thrown onto the streets, you will put on a dress tonight, go to the gala, and get married!” I stared at the crushed gloves, my jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached. Those gloves were Marcus’s pride—the ones he wore when he won his bare-knuckle championship years ago. “Roxy…” Chloe timidly offered me a towel, her eyes red. “Please don’t fight with Dad. I’m sorry… I was too scared to go. I’m so useless…” I took a deep breath, forcing down the urge to snap Richard’s neck, and snatched the towel. “Fine,” I said, my voice ice-cold. “I’ll go.” For Marcus’s sake, I would endure this. But I didn’t tell Richard the very first rule Marcus had taught me: Once you step into the ring, survival is the only rule.

By the afternoon, Eleanor had hired the most ruthless high-society deportment coach in the city. “Miss Summer, a lady’s spine must never bend!” The coach glared at my relaxed stance. Frowning, she pulled out a long sewing pin and walked behind me, aiming to prick my back to force me to stand straight. Snap! A sharp sound echoed. The pin snapped in half. My trapezius and latissimus dorsi muscles, forged from years of heavy squats, were not something a tiny pin could penetrate. The coach held the broken needle, looking like she had just seen a ghost. Gulping, she changed tactics. She placed a bowl of water on my head and ordered me to do a runway walk, demanding “soft, elegant steps.” Annoyed, I rested my hand on the mahogany dining table. “Are we done yet?” The moment the words left my mouth, my grip tightened, and I literally crushed a chunk of the solid mahogany corner into splinters. Eleanor gasped behind me, nearly fainting. But for the sake of the marriage alliance, she forced herself to stay quiet and hurriedly dismissed the coach. I lay back on the sofa, closing my eyes to rest. The door creaked open, and Chloe sneaked in. She slid a small bottle of muscle rub into my hand, her eyes welling with tears. “Roxy… I’m so sorry. I’m just so afraid of pain, which is why I let them force you…” She took a deep breath, clenching her small fists as if making a life-changing decision. “But don’t worry! I’ll save up my allowance secretly! In the future, if Damian beats you up, I will pay for all your medical bills! I won’t let you get hurt for nothing!” Looking at her stupid but brave face, I couldn’t help but pinch her soft, chubby cheek. I had to admit, it felt pretty nice. Though this fake sister of mine was weak and cowardly, she at least had a conscience. She was much better than the other snakes in this house. Before I could say anything, a burst of loud laughter came from the hallway. Julian walked in, flanked by a few of his rich, spoiled friends. Seeing me, the guys didn’t even try to hide their mockery. “Whoa, Julian, is this the long-lost sister you guys found? Damn, with that dark skin and those muscles, she’d be great at a construction site!” Julian sneered, his eyes filled with absolute disdain. “What do you expect? She was raised by a trashy underground street fighter. She smells like garbage and behaves like a beast. She’s only fit to be a punching bag for the Vance family’s maniac.” The moment he said “trashy underground street fighter,” I stood up. Julian’s arrogant face drained of color. His knees buckled, and he fell backward onto the sofa, his voice cracking into a high pitch. “What… what do you think you’re doing!” “Roxy!” Richard walked out of his second-floor study, waving the land deed in his hand. “Don’t you dare touch your brother. Try it, and I will have that dump of a gym demolished by tomorrow morning!” I stared at the deed, my fists clenched so hard my palms began to bleed. Taking a deep breath, I forced the violent urge back down. “I don’t need you to remind me,” I said, my voice dead. That evening, Eleanor sent over a expensive, diamond-encrusted strapless gown. I threw it straight into the trash can. Instead, I dug through the closet and found a sharp, custom-tailored black tuxedo. When I put on the suit, tied the tie, and pulled my messy hair back into a sleek, high ponytail, the person in the mirror was no longer a lamb waiting for the slaughter. My broad shoulders filled out the suit perfectly. My tight waist highlighted my explosive frame, and my long legs looked deadly and elegant. I sneered at my reflection. Damian Vance, huh? I hope you can last three rounds under my fists.

As the city lights began to glow, the Vance family’s luxury yacht docked at the harbor. When I stepped into the grand ballroom wearing my black tuxedo and three-inch stiletto heels, the noisy chatter instantly died down. Then, a wave of hushed whispers washed over the room. “Is that the girl the Summers found from the slums? Why is she dressed like a bodyguard?” “Look at those shoulders. If she walks any closer, I’m afraid she’ll decapitate me with one punch.” “Hilarious. No wonder they’re giving her to Damian. She looks like she can actually survive a beating.” I didn’t even blink at the mocking whispers of the high-society girls. Richard and Eleanor felt completely humiliated and walked far ahead, keeping their distance from me. Suddenly, a loud, obnoxious voice broke the peace. “Well, well, if it isn’t the adopted Summer girl. You look pretty cute tonight. Come on, let’s go to the deck and have a drink!” A young man in a loud designer shirt, reeking of alcohol, stumbled over. He grabbed Chloe by the wrist, his greasy eyes scanning her up and down. Chloe paled, trying desperately to pull away. “What are you doing? Let go of me! Dad! Julian! Help me!” She looked at her family in despair. However, Richard didn’t move. In fact, he grabbed Julian to keep him from stepping in. He even bowed slightly toward the drunk man. “It is Chloe’s honor that you fancy her, Mr. Vance! Chloe, be good, go have a drink with him!” I frowned. So this piece of trash was Chad Vance, a distant cousin of the Vance family who used his family’s name to terrorize the city. Tears streamed down Chloe’s face as she cried out in despair, her eyes frantically searching the crowd for help. Finally, her gaze landed on me. My eyes darkened. Just as I was about to step forward, Chad let go of Chloe and stumbled toward me. He looked me up and down with a disgusting smirk. “Ah, I know you. You’re the scapegoat the Summers brought in to marry Damian, right? Damn, you look pretty tough. Damian’s going to have a lot of fun breaking you tonight.” Grinning drunkenly, he reached out his hand, trying to slap my cheek playfully. “I heard you’re good at taking hits. Since you’re going to be our family’s punching bag anyway, why don’t you let me test the goods first?” The crowd erupted into laughter. Not a single person stepped forward to stop him. “Roxy! Stand still!” Richard hissed, whispering a venomous warning into my ear. “Do not offend a Vance! Even if he slaps you today, you will smile and take it! Think about your father’s gym!” The man’s hand, smelling of stale alcohol, was now less than two inches from my face. I looked down at the sharp, needle-like heels of my stilettos. Suddenly, Marcus’s voice echoed in my mind, back when he used to tap my shoulders with a ruler in the gym. “Roxy, as fighters, we must have honor. We don’t start fights, and we don’t bully the weak.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. I will give you exactly three more seconds of my patience.

The man’s hand was now less than an inch away. Sorry, Marcus. But tonight, I’m putting honor on hold. A sharp, splintering sound shattered the ballroom atmosphere. My stiletto heel violently stomped through the yacht’s expensive solid-wood flooring, pinning myself firmly to the deck! Chad froze. I opened my eyes, a wild, predatory excitement blooming in my chest. I grabbed his outstretched wrist and twisted it downward. “AAARGH!” A squeal like a slaughtered pig tore through the air. Disgusted, I tossed his arm aside, ripped off my restrictive black suit jacket, and kicked off my heels. Beneath my suit pants, my ankles were wrapped tightly in professional MMA hand wraps. Before Chad could recover, I dropped my shoulder, grabbed his collar and belt, and executed a flawless, high-amplitude hip throw! A one-hundred-and-eighty-pound grown man flew through the air in a perfect arc, crashing headfirst into the seven-tier champagne tower in the center of the room! Glass exploded, and expensive champagne rained down. Chad twitched twice on the floor before passing out cold amidst the shards. The room went dead silent for two seconds before the wealthy guests erupted into terrified screams. “Roxy! Are you out of your fucking mind?!” Richard looked like he was about to have a stroke, his pointing finger shaking violently. “This is Vance property! You’re going to get us all killed!” In the corner, Chloe stood with her hands over her mouth, completely awestruck. There was a glimmer of sheer, unfiltered admiration in her eyes. I casually rolled my shoulders, my neck popping loudly. “What are you screaming for?” I sneered at Richard. “Didn’t you say the Vances love violence? I’m just adapting early. Showing off my core competency.” “Is that so?” A deep, raspy voice echoed from the entrance. The heavy double doors of the ballroom were pushed open by two rows of imposing bodyguards in black suits. The crowd parted instantly, fleeing to the sides like they were escaping a monster. The legendary, terrifying heir of the Vance empire—Damian Vance—stepped over the wreckage. He was nearly six-foot-three, with a dark, suffocatingly oppressive face. As he walked, he slipped off his expensive suit coat, tossing it to a bodyguard, and began slowly unbuttoning his silver cufflinks. Even beneath his dress shirt, the outline of his dense, powerful muscles and explosive strength was terrifyingly clear. The dark, bloody aura radiating from him made it hard for anyone in the room to breathe. Richard’s knees buckled, and he collapsed to the floor, his face white. Chloe closed her eyes, unable to watch the bloody scene she assumed was about to happen. Damian stopped exactly three paces away from me. His pitch-black eyes locked onto mine. Everyone in the room knew it: Roxy Summer was a dead woman walking. But instead of taking a step back, the blood in my veins began to boil with pure excitement. I licked my lips, staring straight at him. Slowly, I pulled off my silk tie, tore off the hem of my shirt, and wrapped the cloth tightly around my knuckles, making a makeshift pair of hand wraps. My eyes gleamed as I scanned his stance and his center of gravity. “Your base is solid. You’re a real fighter,” I said. I tapped my wrapped fists together and flashed him a wild, cocky grin. “So, Mr. Vance. Are we doing UFC rules tonight, or raw, unrestricted street fighting?” “Oh, and just to be clear… if I accidentally kill you, your family won’t sue mine, right?”

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Starting from the second week of college, I suddenly began gaining weight no matter what I ate. Meanwhile, my roommate Vivian, who used to weigh a massive 200 pounds, was visibly shedding weight by the day. Within a month, our weights completely swapped. She was down to 100 pounds. I was up to 200 pounds. She even snatched my slot to host the annual Homecoming Gala. And because she was terrified I’d stop trying, she rallied the entire class to “supervise” my weight loss. But why the hell should I listen to any of them? Wouldn’t it be much more fun if we were all fat together? Soon enough, her weight started ballooning like a pumped-up balloon. And Vivian literally fell to her knees, begging me to break the bond! I had just finished my ten-kilometer run for the day. Dragging my leaden legs back to the dorm, I hadn’t even wiped the sweat off my face before Vivian’s screeching voice pierced my ears. “Oh look, the fat pig is back!” She was sitting in my desk chair, dangling her feet in a pair of limited-edition designer heels she had just dug out of my closet. Her little clique of minions instantly caught the cue and burst into nasty laughter. “Look at her. Disgusting.” “Other people sweat, but she? She’s sweating pure lard!” “She reeks. She’s not even in the same league as Vivian anymore.” A wave of heat rushed straight to my face, making my cheeks burn. “Vivian, are you done?” I panted, my voice trembling slightly. “Not even close,” she said, standing up. Though she was barely 5’3″, she strutted toward me like she owned the world, spitting words right into my face. “Fat pigs don’t get to rest, okay? Keep moving. Otherwise, how are you going to burn off all that lard?” She poked my shoulder hard with her finger. My muscles were already trembling from overexertion, and with that poke, I lost my balance and fell straight to the floor. A surge of raw anger hit my brain. I violently slapped her hand away. “Vivian, that’s enough! So what if I’m fat? I still have my dignity!” Vivian acted like she had just heard the funniest joke in the world. She threw her head back and laughed, and her minions joined in, howling with amusement. Suddenly, she grabbed a freshly opened bottle of my expensive hydrating toner from my desk. Without even unscrewing the cap properly, she gave it a cruel flick. The ice-cold liquid, heavily scented, splashed all over my face and chest. My brand-new gym top was instantly ruined, covered in a giant, dark wet stain. “Oops, my hand slipped!” She covered her mouth, but the malicious glee in her eyes was impossible to hide. Another minion giggled as she grabbed my canvas tote bag hanging from the bedpost. With a loud clatter, she slammed it down by my feet. My textbooks and notebooks scattered all over the floor. “Pick them up, piggy.” Vivian crossed her arms and tilted her chin up, commanding me like I was a stray dog. “And while you’re down there, my shoes got a little dusty. Wipe them.” The air in the room froze. Blood roared in my ears. A crushing weight of humiliation wrapped around my chest like cold vines, squeezing the breath right out of me. I bit my lower lip so hard I tasted copper. My fingernails dug into my palms. The sharp pain was real, but it couldn’t drown out the overwhelming shame and anger. Just a month ago, Vivian was a 200-pound girl who was too terrified of rejection to even look people in the eye. But today, she had completely transformed. Not only had she successfully shrunk to a model’s size, but her personality had also taken a nasty, arrogant turn. I had never done anything to hurt her. In fact, I was the only person in this entire school who had ever treated her like a real friend. How dare she treat me like this!

I didn’t know what was happening lately. No matter what I ate, I just kept blowing up. My weight was climbing like crazy. Going from 100 pounds to 200 pounds took only a single month. And somehow, Vivian had managed to lose exactly that much weight in the same month, dropping from 200 to 100 pounds. It was pure insanity—the kind of ridiculous plot you’d only see in a trashy fantasy drama. Yet, it was happening to me in real life. But I refused to believe it at first. The moment I realized I was gaining weight, I started starving myself and working out, pushing my body to the absolute limit. I woke up before dawn to run, with only the streetlights cast stretching shadows on the track. At the cafeteria, I only dared to order plain celery and boiled kale. By midnight, my stomach would burn with agonizing hunger. Every single time I stepped on the scale, my heart lodged in my throat. But that cursed number remained welded to the display, refusing to budge. Occasionally, I’d lose half a pound, only to gain back double the next day. Despair slowly crawled up like cold ocean water, submerging me. The beliefs I had lived by for over a decade almost crumbled in that moment. Was Vivian really some kind of chosen one? And was I just her miserable foil? I stared at the bloated, swollen stranger in the mirror. The fat had swallowed my facial features, leaving no trace of the sharp, pretty girl I used to be. But what about Vivian? She spun around in an XS-sized dress she had stolen from my closet, practically floating. She basked in the attention of the boys who swarmed around her like flies, soaking up titles like “goddess” and “untouchable,” while they used me as a doormat to make her look better. “Don’t waste your breath, Chloe,” she whispered in my ear, her voice dripping with venom. “Some people are just born to be fat pigs.” The final string in my head snapped. To hell with dieting! I marched into the cafeteria. I loaded my tray with everything I had been terrified to touch before—cheeseburgers, pizzas, loaded fries. The rich aroma of grease and carbs hit my nose, bringing a sense of pure, vengeful euphoria. I buried my face in the food, eating like a starving wolf. Strangely, after a few days of total indulgence, no matter how much trash food I shoved down my throat, my weight stayed completely stagnant. That was bizarre. Losing weight was hard, but gaining weight shouldn’t be this difficult either. Just then, Vivian’s hysterical shriek echoed from across the room: “Where is my jawline?! Why do I have a double chin?! What happened to my face?!” She was clawing at her cheeks, which had visibly rounded, and at the sudden roll of fat spilling over her waistband. She looked like she was losing her mind. A bizarre, wild thought suddenly crept into my head. Something was seriously wrong here. I was eating like a pig, so why was she gaining weight? And back when I was killing myself at the gym, my weight wouldn’t budge, but she was getting lighter by the day!

I decided to investigate Vivian. If she was behind this, I was going to destroy her. That evening, she received a phone call. Her voice instantly turned sweet enough to cause cavities, and she hurriedly ran downstairs. Acting on pure instinct, I quietly followed her. Sneaking past the secluded woods behind the campus library, I spotted Harry in the distance. My boyfriend of one year. The guy who always claimed he loved me for being “independent and confident.” They were hooking up behind my back. I clenched my fists so hard my knuckles turned white. Nice move, Harry! We hadn’t even broken up yet, and you were already screwing around with Vivian! The next second, Vivian threw herself into his arms like a butterfly. Harry wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning down to nuzzle her forehead with a tenderness I had never seen him show me. “Harry, do you like my new dress?” Vivian’s voice drifted over with the breeze. “You look beautiful. You look amazing in everything.” Harry’s voice was pure mush. “Way better than Chloe, right? She’s got such a nasty temper, and now she’s as big as a house. It’s so embarrassing to be seen with her.” “Don’t even mention her,” Harry said, his voice dripping with utter disgust. “My Vivian is the best. You have such a perfect body. Walking with you makes me look so good.” So that was it! I forced myself to stay calm. They made out for about half an hour before Vivian took a shopping bag from Harry and started walking back. I slid behind a thick bush, letting the darkness swallow my heavy frame. Vivian hummed a tune as she walked, practically skipping. She was on cloud nine. “Chloe thinks she’s so special. Too bad she’s bound to my system now! Her perfect weight belongs to me!” She snapped a twig in her hand, her voice sending a chill down my spine. “Chloe, you’re nothing but my stepping stone for the rest of your life. Once I lock Harry down for good, everything you own will be mine.” Vivian’s sudden weight loss. Harry’s sudden coldness and his constant threats to break up with me. All the puzzle pieces fell into place, revealing a terrifying truth! Vivian had bound a system to me, and she had swapped our weights. Fine. Perfect. Vivian, so this is how you repay me. To think I actually felt sorry for her poor background and constantly bought her food and clothes. She literally stabbed me in the back! Vengeance spread through my veins like wildfire. Force her to unbind? No. I wanted her to drink her own poison! Losing weight is pure torture. Working out is a nightmare. Why don’t we just give up and be fat together like “best friends”?

Step one: get my stolen stuff back. I went straight to Professor Ford, throwing down photos and receipts on his desk. The Cartier necklace Vivian bragged about every day, the Chopard watch on her wrist, and the empty jars of La Prairie skin cream stacked on her vanity. Every single item belonged to me. “Professor, these items are worth over $30,000 in total. Vivian has been ‘borrowing’ them for almost a year and refuses to return them.” “Should I call the police and file a grand larceny report, or would you prefer to contact her parents directly?” Professor Ford’s face turned several shades of pale. When Vivian was summoned to the office, she still had her nose in the air. She dragged a heavy plastic bag behind her and tossed it at my feet with a loud clatter. The necklace was scratched and dull—clearly a cheap replica, not my original. The watch was real, but she obviously hadn’t cared for it; the leather strap was heavily worn, severely tanking its value. And the luxury skincare jars were practically scraped clean. “There! Take it back! We’re classmates, is it really that serious?” She rolled her eyes, acting like I was the dramatic one. “You seriously don’t know the first thing about being a team player!” “I don’t touch trash that other people have ruined,” I said coldly, pushing the bag away. “Either you pay me the full $30,000 value, or you can explain it to a judge.” Vivian’s face drained of color instantly. I knew her family’s financial situation. Forget $30,000—they couldn’t even scrape together $2,000 without selling their house. She shot a panicked look at Harry, who had just burst into the office. “Chloe! Don’t push it!” Harry yelled, looking incredibly righteous. “Vivian just used a few of your things! What’s the big deal?” “Can’t you just be the bigger person? Do you have to ruin her life? Apologize to Vivian right now!” Where did this clown get the nerve? I almost laughed out loud. “Did you pocket the cash from the real necklace I bought, Harry?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Or did you plan this theft together? Because let’s be real, Vivian doesn’t have the brains to pull this off alone.” Vivian probably didn’t even know what luxury brands were before she met me! Harry panicked, quickly cutting me off. “Chloe, shut up! I… I’m just standing up for what’s right.” “We’re all classmates. There’s no need to make things this ugly.” Even now, he was still trying to play both sides. Even if I adopted a dog, at least it would be loyal! I looked at the two of them—one completely lost, the other shifting his eyes guiltily. I felt a sudden wave of pity for my past self. How did I let myself get played by these two absolute idiots? What a joke! I stood up, done wasting my breath. “That’s why I brought Professor Ford in as a witness instead of calling the cops directly. I was trying to spare you guys.” “But let me make this clear: the total value is $30,000. I don’t take cash. Wire it directly to my bank account!” Hearing this, Vivian completely lost her mind. “Chloe! You’re robbing me! A stupid necklace is not worth $30,000! You’re insane!” I slapped the original purchase receipts onto the desk one by one. “I get that you don’t understand luxury brands, Vivian. But I have the receipts. Feel free to take them to the store to verify.” Vivian looked at Professor Ford, begging him to intervene. But Professor Ford just rubbed his temples and said with a sigh, “Chloe is right. If you don’t believe her, we can involve the police. The amount is too high for the university to handle internally.” Vivian’s face went entirely white. Harry didn’t dare say a word. He was completely stunned. I didn’t expect to get the money today anyway. I had to give them some time to sweat and scramble, after all. Professor Ford, terrified of a scandal reflecting badly on the department, promised me he would make sure they paid me back. But I knew Vivian’s revenge would be fast and dirty. She had never planned on playing nice. But the trap wasn’t fully set yet. I couldn’t let them off the hook too easily…

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When my son, Leo, was three, my wife, Chloe, secretly took him away and gave him to her childhood friend, Carlos. She then lied to me, claiming our boy was lost. While I was frantically searching the streets, out of my mind with worry, I saw Carlos’s latest Instagram post. “A family of three. Simple happiness.” The photo showed Carlos holding a sleeping Leo, with Chloe leaning in close for a cozy selfie. Ignorant friends had flooded the comment section with blessings. My reply was the only one that stood out like a sore thumb: “Give Leo back to me.” Ten minutes later, the post was deleted. Chloe called me, absolutely furious. “What is wrong with you? He’s just a kid! We can always have another one later!” “Carlos can never have his own children. What’s wrong with letting him raise ours?” In the background, I could hear Carlos’s soft, soothing voice. Chloe snapped, “You need to think about your attitude,” and hung up. An hour later, Carlos updated his Instagram again, tagging me directly. “The one who truly loves you will bring everything you want to your feet.” The picture showed the custom diamond ring I had ordered six months ago. It was Chloe’s way of putting me in my place. But this time, I wasn’t going to take it anymore.

Chloe didn’t get home until 9 PM. By then, I was already packing my bags. The bedroom was a total mess. She walked in with a sneer. She was clearly here to fight for Carlos. “You know Carlos just found out he’s sterile! Why would you rub salt in his wound? Don’t you think you’re being incredibly cruel?” Looking at this self-righteous woman spitting words at me, I found it almost hilarious. This was my wife. She was terrified that a single word from me would hurt Carlos. Yet, she didn’t care at all about how terrified I was when she lied and told me our son was missing. I didn’t even want to argue. I stood there, holding a glass of water, watching her storm around the room, frantically packing up the rest of Leo’s things. My mind flashed back to two mornings ago. I had barely sat down at my desk at work when my phone rang. Her voice was trembling on the other end: “Liam, what do we do? Leo is gone! I lost him!” Through her sobbing, she claimed Leo had wandered off at the mall. I panicked. I immediately called my friends and organized a search party around the mall. Even as I frantically searched every corner, I didn’t forget to call and comfort her. But where was she? She was probably by Carlos’s side the whole time. Because Carlos had just been diagnosed with infertility. He could never have biological children. Her heart bled for him. She wanted to be with him twenty-four hours a day, terrified he might do something drastic. And when I called her a few more times to get more details about how Leo went missing, she got annoyed. She thought I was interrupting her time with Carlos, so she blocked my Snapchat and my number. For two days and nights, I didn’t sleep or eat, searching desperately. Still, there was no sign of him. Just as I was on the verge of a total breakdown, I stumbled upon Carlos’s Instagram update. “A family of three. Simple happiness.” In the photo, Carlos was holding a sleeping Leo with one arm, his other arm wrapped around a blushing Chloe. They looked like a perfect, happy family. At that moment, all the strength drained from my body. I couldn’t understand what I was to Chloe. Seeing me sitting silently at the table, Chloe’s anger flared up again. “Why aren’t you talking? Playing mute again? Giving me that silent treatment—who do you think you are?” “I already explained it to you on the phone. Carlos can’t have kids.” “Isn’t it perfect to give Leo to him? He didn’t ask for much—just one child!” My hands trembled around the glass. I forced down my rage, looking up at her. “He can ask for whatever he wants. But Leo is mine. Bring him back.” Chloe lost her temper, throwing a pile of clothes right at my face. “Liam, have you had enough?!” “I’ve told you a thousand times, Carlos and I are strictly platonic! I’m just trying to help him!” “You’re always jealous whenever I’m near him. Now that he’s sick, why do you have to throw a tantrum?” “Carlos was right. You’re just a controlling, insecure guy trying to satisfy your own ego!” I was too stunned to speak. The scratch on my leg from searching for Leo began to throb.

Just as the pain made me break into a cold sweat, the doorbell rang. Seeing me sit there, Chloe went to open it. “Hello, we received a report of a missing child…” Before the officer could finish, Chloe cut him off frantically. “No, we found him. Sorry for wasting your time.” She slammed the door shut. Turning back to me, her face was twisted in rage. She screamed: “Liam, are you crazy?! Why the hell did you call the cops? You did this on purpose, didn’t you!” “Carlos was right. You just wanted to terrorize me so I’d submit to you!” She was about to keep screaming, but when she noticed my pale face, she stopped and took a few hesitant steps forward. But she quickly froze. “Oh, please. Are you seriously faking it now?” “You work out every day. You’re telling me searching for a kid for two days made you this weak?” “I get it. You’re trying to copy Carlos to get my sympathy, aren’t you?” Looking at her sneering face, I felt a wave of disgust. So Carlos being sterile meant he was fragile and needed protection, but me being genuinely hurt was just “faking it”? He could play the victim to steal my child and enjoy everything that belonged to me, and she found it completely justified? I gritted my teeth and wrapped a bandage around my shin, sinking back into my chair to catch my breath. Seeing this, Chloe pulled a box of chocolates out of her purse and tossed it onto the table. Her voice softened slightly. “Here. Eat up.” “Carlos made me bring this back for you.” “He said Leo is safe with him, so you don’t have to worry. Consider this box of chocolates his apology.” “Liam, we’re doing this for the kid’s sake.” “Just accept it. We can still be friends. You can visit Leo whenever you want.” I looked at the half-melted chocolates on the table, my heart turning to ice. The packaging had clearly been opened. Most of the chocolates had melted together, exposing crushed almonds. If I looked closely, I could even see bite marks on the corners of some pieces. “No, thanks.” My voice was raspy. My throat burned. Chloe didn’t use to be like this. She used to love me. She knew all my likes and dislikes. She knew I had a life-threatening almond allergy—that I couldn’t even touch them. But ever since Carlos came back from abroad, she had become a completely different person. Seeing me reject her offering, Chloe snatched the box and threw it at me. The sticky dark chocolate splattered all over my white shirt. “Enough, Liam! Stop being so ungrateful!” “If you keep throwing this tantrum, you’ll never see Leo again.” “Don’t forget, I’m the one who gave birth to him!” I froze, the pain in my leg instantly forgotten. I never thought the woman I had been married to for five years, the woman I loved deeply, would one day use our son to threaten me. “I want to see Leo. Now.” The thought of little Leo being ripped away from his parents, crying out for his dad somewhere, sent a sharp pang through my chest. Chloe smirked, thinking she finally had leverage over me. She grabbed her phone to FaceTime Carlos. “Sure. But you have to apologize to Carlos first.” I snapped my head up, utterly bewildered. “You stole my son and gave him away, and now I have to apologize to *him* just to see my own kid?” Chloe lost it. She hurled her phone at me. “Your kid? Don’t forget, he came out of my body! Without me, you wouldn’t even have a son!” “And as for Carlos?” “Let me make one thing clear: he’s my child, and I’ll let whoever I want raise him!” “If you don’t want to apologize over the phone, fine. You can apologize to him in person!” With that, she grabbed my hair and dragged me toward the door. The sudden movement tore the wound on my leg open again. Fresh blood soaked through the bandage.

The agonizing pain made me think of Leo. He was such a sweet, sensible boy. He must be so scared right now. I remembered how much Chloe had changed after she picked Carlos up from the airport. She stopped caring about me, and she barely paid attention to Leo. Until a week ago, when Chloe, who had been MIA for weeks, unexpectedly came home early and cooked a huge dinner. She apologized softly, claiming she had been neglecting us because of work. Leo was so happy that day. But he didn’t understand—what kind of “work” makes a mother completely ignore her child for three whole months? Yet, despite the flimsy excuse, I chose to believe her for the sake of our family. Ever since Carlos returned, she hadn’t sat down for a single meal with our son. I had tried to respect her choices. Even when Leo cried for her, I did my best to soothe him. But now, I finally understood. It was all because of another man. That rare family dinner was interrupted by a phone call from Carlos before we even started eating. Carlos’s low, depressed voice on the line sent her into an instant panic. She grabbed her car keys and bolted. Leaving behind a resigned me, and a heartbroken Leo. The trail of blood on the floor was hard to ignore. Chloe finally noticed, and her grip on my hair loosened. She hesitated. “Are you really hurt?” I could only offer a bitter laugh. When we first got married, we were so in love. Chloe’s entire world revolved around me. Back then, let alone this much blood, she would worry over the tiniest bruise. And now? Every vow we made had become a worthless, forgotten promise. An impatient look crossed her face as she grabbed her keys. “Fine. If you were hurt, why didn’t you say so earlier? Let’s go to the hospital.” I didn’t argue. I let her help me into the car. The moment I sat in the passenger seat, I realized her car had completely changed too. On the dashboard was a bottle of cologne from France—where Carlos had just returned from. And in the corner of the rearview mirror, there was a Polaroid of her and Carlos. Seeing my eyes fixed on it, Chloe looked slightly guilty. “Don’t overthink it. It’s just a silly photo we took as friends. He pasted it there for fun.” “If you don’t like it, I can take it down…?” I leaned my head against the window, closing my eyes to block out the sun. “It’s fine. Just take me to the hospital.” As a man, how could I not see through Carlos’s little games? He was quietly invading my space, marking his territory, and mocking me. In the past, I would have thrown a fit. But now? I didn’t want this woman anymore. Anything related to her no longer mattered. We had only been driving for a few minutes when Carlos called. Over the phone, Carlos’s whiny voice was accompanied by Leo’s hysterical crying. My heart clenched. Helpless, I grabbed Chloe’s arm. “What’s wrong with Leo?! Why is he crying like that?!” But Chloe didn’t care about my panic. She pulled over to the curb, unlocked the passenger door, and shoved me out. She left me with one sentence:

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I woke up in a hospital bed with amnesia. I remembered everyone—except Ethan Hayes, the man I’d desperately chased for five years. But Ethan was never good to me. All his tenderness belonged to his first love, his ultimate obsession. Even when I tumbled down the stairs and knocked myself unconscious, his only concern was whether she had gotten a scratch. Everyone used to say I loved Ethan so much that I threw my dignity into the dirt. What a joke. Now, I don’t even remember who Ethan Hayes is. If he wants to be cold and distant, fine. I’m done chasing him. But later, Ethan grabbed my arm so tight his knuckles turned white. With bloodshot eyes, he begged me: “Chlo, please. I beg you to remember. Once you remember, you can love me again.” “Chlo, are you seriously faking this? Or is this just your new tactic to get Ethan’s attention?” Harper tilted her head, utterly confused. She couldn’t understand why I remembered everyone else but forgot Ethan Hayes, the man I used to love more than life itself. But hearing that name now, my mind was a complete blank. I blinked blankly and asked, “Who… is Ethan?” Harper was completely stunned. She quickly grabbed my phone from the nightstand and thrust it into my hands. “Ethan Hayes!” “Look! Your lock screen is a photo of him, and your password is his birthday. Ever since you fell head over heels for him at a gala five years ago, you’ve been obsessed. You chased him like crazy for five whole years.” “You even gave up your dream admission to the Parsons School of Design just to work a grueling corporate finance job at his company!” Harper spoke with intense passion, but as my eyes fell on the photo on the screen, I felt nothing. No butterfly in my stomach. No warmth. Just complete detachment. “So, did we get together?” My question made Harper choke on her words. She shook her head, looking at me with pity. “No. Ethan… he actually disliked you a lot.” “He has this first love, Veronica, whom he could never forget. You fell down the stairs because you got into a fight with her right after she came back to the country. Ethan lost his temper and pushed you. It was an accident, but still…” As Harper spoke, a strange, residual muscle memory flared up in my body. My nose stung, and a dull, aching pain throbbed in my chest. I looked down at the man on my lock screen. It was clearly a candid photo. The way he looked at the camera was filled with annoyance and disgust. It made me want to cry for the girl I used to be. I took a deep breath, swiped my phone, and changed both the lock screen and the password. “Chlo, what are you…” “Since five years of chasing got me nothing, maybe forgetting is a blessing for both of us. I won’t have to suffer anymore, and he can finally be free.” I patted Harper’s hand to reassure her. Then, I deleted every single trace of Ethan Hayes from my phone, including his contact info. Harper sniffled, suddenly throwing her arms around me. “Good! You should’ve done this a long time ago!” “He’s not the only guy in the world. You’re beautiful and kind, Chlo. You can have anyone you want! Why the hell did you suffer in that toxic finance department, working overnight every day? Ethan has terrible taste anyway, choosing to love that fake green tea b”tch, Veronica!” Harper got more worked up by the second, ready to curse Ethan for another three hundred rounds. Just then, a nurse knocked on the door and called her out. “Chlo, hang out for a bit. I’ll be right back.” I smiled and nodded, picking up a fashion design magazine to pass the time. I was completely absorbed in it when— “Knock, knock.” The ward door was pushed open. I looked up. “Mr. Hayes?”

Ethan Hayes frowned when he heard my formal, cold greeting. He looked at me with deep suspicion and guardedness, clearly thinking this was another one of my games. He kept his chin high, his posture arrogant. “The stairs incident… I admit I have some responsibility. I’m here to apologize.” “I’ve already wired ten million dollars to your account. If you have any other demands, as long as they aren’t ridiculous, I can meet them. But if you’re trying to use this accident to force me to be with you, let me tell you right now, that is absolutely im—” I put down the magazine, sat up, and cut him off. “Mr. Hayes, that won’t be necessary.” “You’re Harper’s uncle, and what happened was just an accident. You’ve paid the compensation, and you’ve delivered your apology. Let’s just call it even.” Ethan stared at me, his eyes widening slightly. It was as if he thought I had lost my mind. He had come here prepared for me to cry, scream, and hold onto his coat. And now I was just… letting it go? “If you don’t have any other demands, I’m leaving.” I nodded, offering him a polite, professional smile. “Thank you for visiting, Mr. Hayes. Have a safe trip back.” Ethan purposely slowed his steps. Right before he stepped out of the ward, he finally heard my voice. “Wait, Mr. Hayes.” The tight frown on Ethan’s face instantly relaxed. When he turned back, his expression was already replaced by his usual impatience. “Chloe, I knew you couldn’t resist! Tell me, what do you want?” I tilted my head, looking completely puzzled by his sudden outburst of anger. “I’m sorry, but could you please close the door on your way out?” Ethan choked on his breath, his face turning red and then pale. He never expected that the only reason I called him back was to ask him to shut the door. It was as if he was humiliated by the realization that he was actually “expecting” me to ask him for something. Ethan slammed the door shut with a deafening bang. “Ethan? You came to see Chlo too? The doctor said she’s recovering well, but her mem—” Before Harper could finish her sentence, Ethan gave her a cold, dismissive glance and swept past her. Harper rolled her eyes, pushed the door open, and walked in. She complained to me, “Thank God you don’t like him anymore. What an arrogant prick!” “Did he bully you just now? He hasn’t given you a single good look in five years. He even dumped you in the most brutal investment department to make things hard for you. I was so sick of his behavior.” Since we were on the topic, I took the opportunity to say, “I want to resign.” “To be honest, since I woke up, I’ve looked over my current job, and I really don’t like it. I probably only did it because of Ethan. But now, I want to chase my own dream.” I waved the fashion magazine in my hand toward Harper. “The Royal College of Art.” “My application was accepted. In two weeks, I’m moving to London.” Harper froze, clearly shocked by my sudden decision. “So sudden? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” I offered a bitter smile, not wanting to hide anything from her. “I just decided. When I saw him earlier, my heart still ached for some reason. But I can see he doesn’t love me at all. His voice was filled with disgust, and his face was so cold.” Harper quickly tried to comfort me. “No, Ethan actually cares about you. Don’t make a rash decision!” “Otherwise, he wouldn’t have rushed over to see you. Back then, all those finance study materials I gave you? He actually compiled them for you himself. And last time…” I shook my head, my eyes calm and clear. “Harper, it doesn’t matter. I don’t love him anymore.” Harper was stunned into silence. Yes. The Chloe who loved Ethan Hayes to death had already died when he pushed her down those stairs. But the day before my discharge, an unexpected guest arrived in my ward, wearing a sweet, gentle smile. I recognized her from Harper’s description. Ethan’s first love, Veronica. “I heard you have amnesia?”

I was a bit taken aback. Because of Ethan, my relationship with Veronica was bound to be terrible. I didn’t expect her to visit me. Seeing that I didn’t reply, Veronica wasn’t angry. She sat right beside my bed and started bragging. “Sorry I didn’t give you a heads-up. Ethan is just too protective of me. My stomach was feeling a bit off, and he was so worried. He literally confiscated my phone and forced me to take a nap. He only just left because of an urgent company matter, so I finally found time to see you.” I nodded, my voice flat. “Thank you for coming. Since you’re sick, you should rest more.” Veronica froze for a second, then her smile grew even wider, dripping with venom. “So… you really did lose your memory.” “I heard that during the five years I was gone, you clung to Ethan like a desperate dog.” “But even if you don’t remember, I’m sure Harper told you how much he loves me. I really want to get back together with Ethan, but because you fell down the stairs, he has this lingering guilt. It’s holding him back.” She tilted her head, the sweet smile vanishing to reveal pure, raw malice. “So, I need you to disappear from Ethan’s sight, you pathetic loser.” Before I could even speak, Veronica’s eyes welled up, and massive tears began to roll down her cheeks as she sobbed into her hands. Before I could figure out what game she was playing, Ethan burst through the door with brute force. The moment he saw Veronica crying, he turned on me like a savage animal. “Chloe, what the hell is wrong with you?! Veronica came here out of the goodness of her heart, and you have the nerve to bully her? I’ve told you a thousand times, Veronica is my life. She’s the only woman I will ever love.” “I actually thought you were behaving lately with your cold act. I didn’t realize your tactics had just gotten dirtier!” I kept my composure and explained, “I didn’t say a thing. Veronica came into my room and insulted me under the guise of visiting. There’s a security camera right there. Just pull the footage.” Veronica’s eyes flickered, and she immediately sobbed, “Ethan, please, she’s still a wealthy heiress. My family is ruined now, I can’t afford to offend her.” “If she says I insulted her, then I did. Miss Chloe, I apologize to you. I’ll bow to you. Just please, don’t be mad!” Ethan already loathed me for using my family’s influence to chase him. Seeing Veronica humiliate herself like this made him lose all rationality. He pulled Veronica into his arms, cooing softly, “Veronica, you’re just too kind.” He then glared at me. “Last time, she almost got physically violent with you. Thank God I got there in time. I thought falling down the stairs would teach you a lesson, but you’re still as vicious as ever!” He spat out his warning. “Chloe, for the sake of your recovery, apologize to Veronica right now, and I’ll let this go!” I was shaking with anger. “I will not apologize! Why should I apologize for something I didn’t do?!” “Ethan Hayes, I said I didn’t do it! If you don’t believe me, check the security cameras!” Ethan sneered, completely ignoring my words. He turned to the bodyguards standing behind him. “Check the cameras? Do you think Veronica would lie to me?!” “Since you refuse to apologize on your own, I’ll have to have someone teach you some manners.” I had barely recovered from my head injury, and my physical strength was no match for professional bodyguards. Within seconds, they pinned my arms back. The brute force bruised my shoulders instantly, making me gasp in pain. Under Ethan’s cold command, the bodyguards violently dragged me out of bed. They forced my head down, trying to make me bow to Veronica. I was already suffering from a concussion and prone to dizziness. After being violently wrestled like this, my vision went black. My head slammed hard against the metal edge of the hospital bed. Warm blood immediately gushed down my forehead, blinding me. The pain was excruciating. “Leave her! She’s just playing victim again. Today, she needs to learn her lesson.” Blood blurred my eyes. Weak and dizzy, I collapsed to my knees on the cold floor. The bodyguards kept pressing my head down, forcing me to bow to Veronica. My forehead hit the hard floor repeatedly. Ethan stood there, watching it all with absolute indifference. It hurt. It hurt so much. My head felt like it was being shattered by a sledgehammer. My entire body began to convulse with pain. Eventually, I lost the strength to struggle and slipped into complete darkness. The last thing I saw through the blood was Ethan gently wrapping his coat around Veronica, whispering sweet words as he led her out. Veronica looked back at me, sprawled miserably on the floor, her face twisted in a triumphant grin. Clinging to Ethan, she silently mouthed to me: “You lose, b”tch.”

When I woke up again, the first thing I saw was Harper’s swollen, tear-stained eyes. “Chlo, thank God you’re awake.” “The nurse said if they had been a few minutes later, the second concussion and the blood loss would have killed you. You almost never woke up. That man is an absolute monster!” But Ethan was still her uncle. I didn’t want to ruin her family relationships. I gently patted Harper’s head and let out a long sigh. “It’s fine. Let’s just say I paid my debt for bothering him for five years.” The day I was discharged, I went straight to the office with my resignation letter. “You’re resigning?” Ethan looked stunned when I handed him the envelope. His eyes lingered on the white gauze wrapped around my forehead. His expression turned awkward, and he spoke in a stiff, uncomfortable tone. “About last time… I went too far. But you were the one who started it. Look, I’ll hand the Apex Project over to your family’s company as compensation. Stop throwing a tantrum.” I simply shoved the pen into his hand, my voice devoid of emotion. “I did nothing wrong. If you don’t believe me, check the cameras. I don’t accept your apology.” Ethan’s face darkened at my rejection. He forced himself to say, “I know you’re upset that I promoted Veronica to be the head of your department. But I made you the deputy head. It’s not like I demoted you. But on major decisions, you still have to defer to Veronica, and you absolutely cannot bully her! Otherwise, I’ll—” I cut him off sharply, repeating my demand. “Mr. Hayes, your company’s promotions have absolutely nothing to do with a person who is resigning.” “Sign it.” Ethan, humiliated by my repeated rejections, finally snapped. His eyes turned ice-cold. “Fine! I’ll sign it! Do you really think I can’t run this company without you?” “I’ve given you enough face, Chloe, but you threw it back in my face. Once you walk out that door today, don’t you dare come back crying to me. Because I will never let you back in!” Ethan signed the paper and threw the resignation letter in my face. I didn’t care to argue. I picked it up from the floor, turned on my heel, and walked out without looking back. Behind me, Ethan stared at my retreating back, suddenly falling into a tense silence. The day before my flight, Harper threw me a small farewell party. At the venue, I ran into Ethan and Veronica again. Harper gave me a helpless look, and I instantly knew Veronica must have wormed her way into the guest list. But with so many people around, I couldn’t make a scene, nor did I want Veronica to start drama. I greeted them politely, but my coldness was obvious to everyone. Halfway through the party, I went to the back garden to get some fresh air by the fountain. “Why are you still throwing yourself at Ethan? Can’t you see he only has eyes for me? All this drama about resigning and throwing a farewell party… do you honestly think Ethan cares?” I was done playing nice with Veronica. I spoke with sharp venom. “Didn’t you two crash this party yourselves? I didn’t invite you. If you don’t like it, the door is right there. Leave!” Veronica stomped her high heels in anger and hissed, “You’re the one who’s desperate! You’ve been acting so cold lately, and it’s making Ethan so distracted.” “You and Harper are just a pair of cheap sl”ts trying to seduce him. If it wasn’t for you two, Ethan and I would have been married by now!” A surge of hot anger rushed to my head. She could insult me all she wanted, but Harper? Who the hell did she think she was to talk about Harper like that? “Aren’t you the cheap one? You ran away for five years when his family was struggling, and now you crawl back to beg for his money.” “Ethan is Harper’s family, and you dare call her names? You’re not just cheap, you’re disgusting. No wonder Ethan’s grandfather refused to let you marry into the family. He saw right through your trashy soul!” “Slap!” Before she could react, I delivered a clean, hard slap to her face. Veronica never expected me to hit her. Clutching her red, swollen cheek, she screamed in rage and lunged at me. We ended up in a full-blown physical fight. “I said what I said! Do you think Ethan will believe you or me? You’re a sl”t, and Harper is a trashy wh”re helping you hook up with her own uncle!” I found an opening and slapped her again, drawing blood from her lip. By the time the guests rushed to the garden, they had to pull us apart. Ethan, without asking a single question, stepped in front of Veronica and demanded with a dark face: “Chloe, apologize!” I was held back by Harper, screaming in fury. “Apologize for what?! She insulted me and Harper with the most disgusting words! Am I supposed to just take it?!” Ethan didn’t hear a word I said. He looked at Veronica with pure heartbreak. “Chloe, I said, apologize!” “Are you deaf, or do you just refuse to see the truth? You believe every single word that comes out of her mouth! Pull the damn cameras! It will show exactly who needs to apologize!” Ethan’s eyes turned murderous as he repeated, “Yes. If Veronica says it, I believe it.” “Chloe, I am giving you one last chance. Apologize!” I was so angry I felt dizzy. I broke free from Harper’s grip, ready to scream at him. “No! Veronica was the one who—” “Slap!” A massive force sent me stumbling back. I clutched my burning cheek, staring at Ethan in absolute shock. He had just slapped me in front of everyone. The entire crowd gasped. The looks thrown at me were filled with gossip, disgust, and even malicious satisfaction. Ethan pulled Veronica into his arms and barked at me, “That was just a lesson.” “If you’re still not satisfied, I will check the cameras myself later!” With that, Ethan led Veronica away, leaving the party. Harper was so furious she wanted to chase them down, but I grabbed her arm. There was no point. Right now, Ethan was completely blind to everything except Veronica. I quietly held my swollen cheek and left the party. The next morning at the airport gate, Harper’s eyes were red as she hugged me goodbye. “Go to London and focus on your studies, Chlo. I promise I will clear your name today!” I smiled softly. “It’s fine. It doesn’t matter anymore.” Ethan’s slap didn’t just shatter my dignity; it completely killed any lingering feelings I had for him. To the current me, the truth didn’t matter. The man named Ethan Hayes, along with my love for him, had completely vanished from my heart. I just wanted to leave this toxic place behind. Meanwhile, Ethan, who hadn’t slept a wink all night, finally pulled the security footage in the morning. As he watched the screen, his face turned pale, and his eyes filled with absolute horror. He listened to the “sweet, gentle” Veronica on screen, her face twisted in malice as she screamed “sl”t” and “wh”re.” His hands began to shake violently. Ethan suddenly realized he had made a horrific, irreversible mistake. A wave of intense panic washed over him. His hands trembled so much he could barely hold his phone. He tried to call my number, only to realize he had been blocked. He hurriedly dialed Harper’s number. “Harper… I think I misunderstood Chloe.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “457597”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

Alex and I had been childhood sweethearts for ten years. But because of a stupid mistake he made in the lab, a chemical mixture exploded. To save him, I threw myself in front of him. The blast left massive, horrific burn scars all over my neck and shoulder. Those hideous scars made me insecure and terrified of socializing. For years, I wrapped myself up in thick, high-collared clothes, hiding from the world. Alex repented over and over again. He showered me with guilty love, slowly coaxing me out of my shell. Under the sparkling lights of the Eiffel Tower, he gave me a romantic wedding of the century. He cried as he kissed my scar, promising me, “Kate, I swear to God, I will never let you suffer another day in your life.” But four years into our marriage, his love turned into disgust. He told me, “I wish you hadn’t saved me back then. At least I wouldn’t have been forced to marry you out of sheer guilt.” Later, I saw the flirty Snapchat messages on his phone that he hadn’t had time to delete. That was the moment I knew this marriage was over. It was time for me to finally start loving myself.

Ever since a dinner with our old classmate Pete, Alex had become obsessed. All he could think about was getting promoted, making tons of cash, and proving himself. “If I hadn’t given up my funded lab spot at MIT to Pete back then, he would never have landed that high-paying job at Apple,” Alex would snap. “I was better than him in every single class. I’m going to prove that even without a master’s degree, I can still run circles around him.” So, he started working himself to the bone. He spent every night at client dinners and late-night happy hours, trying to climb the corporate ladder. One morning, at 1:30 AM, the front door finally clicked open. The heavy stench of alcohol immediately filled the living room. He stumbled in, his eyes completely bloodshot and out of focus. I rushed over to support him, guiding him to the couch, and handed him the warm milk I had prepared. “Why did you drink so much again? You’re going to ruin your stomach.” He frowned deeply, pushing my hand away. “Do you think I drink for fun? I’m doing this to bring home money!” “If I don’t drink with the bosses, how am I supposed to get noticed? How do I get promoted? How do I close deals?” Impatience flashed in his eyes. I didn’t know when it started, but he had become so easily annoyed with me. Even when I was just trying to care for him. Still, knowing how stressed he was at work lately, I swallowed my hurt and coaxed him gently. “Just drink some milk first. It’ll make your stomach feel better.” “Can you just get off my back for once?!” He shoved me away in frustration. The glass slipped from my hand, shattering on the hardwood floor. Warm milk and broken glass splattered everywhere. He froze, looking slightly guilty. “I… I didn’t mean to.” Looking at the dark circles under his eyes, I let out a soft sigh. “I’ll clean it up. Go take a shower.” He didn’t say a word. He just turned and walked into the bathroom. Soon, the sound of running water started. I carefully picked up the broken glass and grabbed his coat from the couch to take it to the laundry room. But as I reached into his pocket, my fingers brushed against a crumpled napkin. I pulled it out. It was smeared with red lipstick. My mind went completely blank. Right then, his phone buzzed on the counter. I automatically picked it up. A notification popped up on the screen. SnapChat from Marta: You forgot to hug me goodbye today. You owe me one next time. The blank space in my mind suddenly felt like a freezing void. I tried to unlock the phone, only to realize he had changed his password. “Kate! What the hell are you doing?!” Alex rushed out of the bathroom, soaking wet. He snatched the phone out of my hand, his face a mix of panic and rage. “Why are you snooping through my phone?!” He had never kept secrets from me before. His passcode had always been our wedding anniversary. When did he change it? I looked up, trying my best to keep my voice from shaking. “Who is Marta?”

Guilt, panic, and anger flashed through his eyes before settling into defensive rage. “She’s just an assistant to one of my clients! She has a crush on me, okay? But since she works for a client, I can’t just brutally reject her.” “Can you stop being so paranoid? I have to play nice at these dinners. I’m doing all of this for us!” I took a deep breath, trying to force myself to believe his lies. But a woman who leaves lipstick-stained napkins in his pocket… was she really just an assistant? “Then explain the lipstick napkin in your pocket.” He followed my gaze and saw the napkin in my hand. His face turned incredibly pale. “She… she couldn’t find a trash can, and her dress didn’t have pockets. So I just held onto it for her.” It was the most pathetic excuse I had ever heard. But I didn’t have the energy to argue. “Our college reunion is the day after tomorrow,” I said quietly. “Are we still going?” We had graduated from the same university. Afterward, thanks to my advisor’s recommendation, I got a research assistant job at a biotech firm. Alex, however, went into sales and marketing because he thought it was a faster way to make money. He hesitated for a second, then gritted his teeth. “Yes, we’re going.” “Who knows? Maybe I can turn some old classmates into clients.” At the reunion, we ran into a lot of familiar faces. Everyone was laughing and reminiscing about the old days. “Alex was literally the top student in our major. All the professors loved him.” “Right? Back then, we all thought Alex would be running a hedge fund on Wall Street by now.” “Speaking of which, Alex, where are you working these days?” The smile on Alex’s face froze. “Skyline Technologies.” The classmate looked confused. “Skyline? Never heard of it. What do they do?” Alex’s expression darkened with embarrassment. Another classmate saw how awkward things were getting and quickly intervened. “Hey, it’s the weekend! No work talk. Let’s eat!” For the rest of the night, Alex sat in silence, staring at his plate. As we were leaving, Pete walked up and slipped a business card into Alex’s hand. “Alex, I know how capable you are. If you ever want a referral at Apple, let me know. I can get you an interview.” Alex coldly pushed the card back. “I’m not that desperate yet.” The truth was, with the recent tech downturn, Alex’s company was struggling and rumors of layoffs were everywhere. But his pride wouldn’t let him bow his head to the guy he used to beat in school. Pete sighed and took the card back. On the Uber ride home, Alex stared out the window, his jaw clenched tightly. “It’s okay,” I whispered, trying to comfort him. “Once the economy gets better, you’ll find a much better opportunity.” “At least you still have me. And my manager, Jennifer, said I have a really good chance of getting promoted in the next review.” “Enough!” He suddenly snapped, raising his voice so loud that the driver glanced at us in the rearview mirror. “What is your problem, Kate?! Are you mocking me?!” “So what if you make a little more money than me right now? I’m going to make it big sooner or later! I won’t always be a loser compared to you!” “And let’s not forget, you only got that cozy job because your professor handed it to you on a silver platter. At least I got mine on my own merit!” I stared at him, completely shocked. I had no idea he harbored so much resentment. I didn’t know he viewed me—and our entire marriage—this way. “I never meant it like that…” Suddenly, his phone screen lit up. Marta’s Snapchat bitmoji flashed. Alex quickly tapped out a reply, his tense shoulders relaxing just a fraction. Then, he looked up at me, cold as ice. “Whether you meant it or not, you know the truth in your heart.” With that, he barked at the driver to pull over. He got out of the car and slammed the door, leaving me alone in the backseat. He didn’t say where he was going. He didn’t say when he’d be back. I stared at the empty seat beside me, feeling completely hollow. The driver looked back at me, his voice gentle and sympathetic. “Are we still going to your address, ma’am?” I blinked back my tears and found my voice. “Yes. Please.”

He came home extremely late that night. I didn’t ask him any questions, and he didn’t start another fight. We acted like it was just a minor, insignificant disagreement. But both of us knew that this argument was like a thorn, buried deep inside our hearts. A few days later, while doing the laundry, I found a flyer for an MBA program in his coat pocket. “Are you thinking about going back to school?” I asked casually. He snatched the flyer from my hand, his face flushing with embarrassment, and ripped it to shreds before throwing it in the trash. “It was just trash some street recruiter handed me.” “If you want to get your master’s, I’ll support you,” I said gently. Like a dog whose tail had been stepped on, he yelled, “It’s just a stupid piece of paper! I don’t need it!” After that, we couldn’t even have a normal conversation. It was either sharp sarcasm or icy silence. He continued to come home late, sometimes smelling faintly of expensive women’s perfume. His phone never left his hand. Sometimes, he would stare at it and smile so warmly—a smile he hadn’t given me in years. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. Catching him smiling at his phone again, I asked point-blank, “Are you seeing someone else?” His smile vanished, twisting into an ugly scowl. “Kate, are you insane?!” “Just because I’ve been busy for a few days, you think I’m cheating on you?!” His eyes swept over my clothes, and his anger flared even hotter. “And what’s with you wearing that scoop-neck top today? Are you doing this on purpose?” “You’re just trying to remind me of those ugly scars on your neck, aren’t you? Trying to guilt-trip me into staying, reminding me that I ‘owe’ you my life!” “Kate, I gave up a career in New York just to stay in this dead-end town with you. My entire future was ruined because of you! What more do you want?!” “If I knew you’d turn into this, I wish that lab explosion had just killed you back then!” The words echoed in the quiet living room. We both froze. Even Alex realized he had gone too far. He panicked, grabbed his car keys, and stormed out, slamming the door so hard the walls rattled. I shivered. I didn’t know if I was shaking from the loud noise, or from the absolute ice that had just settled into my chest. My scars were hideous. They stretched from my neck, down my shoulder, and covered my entire upper arm. They were bumpy, red, and twisted. During our senior year of college, I was helping Alex with his graduation project in the chemistry lab. But he rushed the procedure, causing a highly volatile chemical reaction to explode. In that split second, I saw him freeze in terror. Without thinking, I threw my weight into him, shoving him out of the blast zone. My own upper body took the brunt of the fire. That was how I got these terrifying scars. For a twenty-two-year-old girl, it was the end of the world. It meant enduring whispered comments, stares on the street, and the fear of never being loved. I used to cry myself to sleep every single night in the hospital. While I was recovering, Alex received a prestigious fellowship offer in New York. But he turned it down. He told me he wanted to stay and take care of me. He said he couldn’t leave me alone, and the moment I was discharged, he proposed. “Meeting you is the best thing that ever happened to me,” he had whispered. I believed him. I thought his love was pure. I never could have guessed that four years later, I would hear his real thoughts. All this time, he felt trapped. He saw me as a parasite demanding payback, the villain who ruined his bright future. Our entire marriage was built on a foundation of guilt and resentment. Slowly, I reached up and ran my fingers over the rough, uneven skin of my shoulder. Because of the summer heat, I had simply worn a comfortable tank top at home. I wasn’t trying to guilt-trip him. I had just forgotten to hide my scars. And it had disgusted him.

Alex texted me saying we both needed some “space.” Kate: Where are you staying if you’re not coming home? Alex: None of your business. Our chat history ended on that freezing note. I didn’t text him again. I didn’t ask where he was. Until his birthday. I dialed his number. “What?” he answered, his voice impatient. I swallowed my pride and kept my voice soft. “It’s your birthday. Come home for dinner.” He quieted down for a long moment. “Fine. I’ll be there.” We had made a pact when we first started dating: no matter what, we would always spend our birthdays together. But by 9:00 PM, the seat across from me was still empty. The food had gone completely cold. I called him again. “When are you coming home?” The background of the call was incredibly loud. Music was blasting, and then, I heard a girl’s sweet, giggling voice. “Alex! Come on, hurry up and blow out the candles!” My eyes slowly drifted to the beautiful cake sitting on our dining table. The box wasn’t even opened yet. The candles were still sealed in plastic. Alex covered the phone’s microphone, and the noise grew slightly fainter as he walked away. “I’ll be home soon. Stop calling me, I’m busy!” He hung up. I slowly set my phone down. My gaze landed on the drawer beside the door. Inside lay the divorce papers I had drafted days ago. At 11:00 PM, the door finally opened. Alex walked in looking slightly guilty. He tried to offer a peace offering. “My coworkers insisted on throwing me a party. You know how it is, I have to network if I want to survive in that place. I couldn’t say no.” I smiled, a tiny, empty smile. “Okay.” Seeing that I wasn’t going to yell, he let out a huge sigh of relief. He eagerly opened the cake box and started placing the candles on it. Through the flickering candlelight, Alex looked at me with a soft smile. “Kate, sing me Happy Birthday?” I stared at the faint smudge of pink lipstick on the inner collar of his shirt. My smile vanished completely. “Alex, as of today, we’ve been together for six years.” “Yeah? What about it?” As the candles began to melt, his familiar impatience started to creep back in. But I was done. “Let’s get a divorce.”

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Five years of stomach cancer. I couldn’t hold on anymore. I called my mother, begging her to save me. “This pathetic trick again? You disgust me.” “If you’re going to die, do it already. At least then we can have your kidney for your sister.” She hung up. The call lasted barely thirty seconds. I didn’t beg again. I faced death alone. Until I ended up on her autopsy table. My mother, who despised me with every fiber of her being, went entirely gray overnight. The nurse told me my hospital account was empty. “You’re still so young. Call your family. They won’t just leave you like this.” The nurse looked at me with pity. For five years, not a single family member had come to visit me. I nodded and pulled out my phone. It was a cheap, outdated flip phone with a speaker that was too loud. It rang until the very last second before someone finally picked up. My throat tightened. “Mom… it’s Hazel.” I allowed myself a foolish sliver of hope. She must care, even just a little. Why else would she take my number off her block list? “Don’t call me that! I am not your mother!” Her sharp, angry voice boomed through the speaker. “Spit it out. What do you want? I’m warning you, today is Chloe’s birthday. Don’t you dare ruin it with your drama.” Only then did I remember today was also my birthday. But it didn’t matter anymore. “I’m sick. Can you… can you lend me some money?” “Money, money, money! I gave you fifteen thousand dollars last time! And now you’re back begging again!” “Last time” was five years ago. Besides, Chloe had “borrowed” ten thousand of it and never paid me back. I choked back a sob. “Mom, I’m dying. Please. Save me.” There was a pause on the other end, followed by a cruel, mocking laugh. “This pathetic trick again? You disgust me.” “If you’re going to die, do it already. At least then we can have your kidney for your sister.” The line went dead. The entire call lasted less than thirty seconds. I looked up at the nurse. “I’m sorry. I let you down.” The nurse covered her mouth, tears streaming down her face. I knew the cancer cells had already metastasized. There was no saving me anyway. The nurse had only urged me to call because she thought hearing a loved one’s voice might comfort me. She had no idea that I didn’t have a family who cared. Enduring the agonizing pain, I dragged myself back to my tiny rented room. I changed into a clean set of clothes and walked to the park my mother always drove past on her way to work. It was a beautiful park, quiet and empty at night. I decided to die there. Maybe that way, as the lead medical examiner, my mother would finally look at me. Truly look at me.

Holding onto the hope of finally being noticed, my death wasn’t as painful as I feared. The rat poison only made my stomach twist with a sharp, fleeting spasm before the darkness took over. At dawn, someone found my body. Detective Marcus flipped through my ID and sighed. “What a waste. She was only twenty-five.” “No signs of foul play. Poor kid, whatever she was going through, she took that rat poison without hesitation.” “How long until Dr. Sarah gets here? We need the medical examiner to officially call it.” My spirit drifted, following his gaze. Soon, a figure I hadn’t seen in five years appeared. “Victim is Hazel Simmons, twenty-five. Apparent suicide. The poison bottle is still in her hand.” My mother frowned at the name. “Hazel Simmons?” Her assistant, Luke, nodded. Her frown deepened. “Suicide at twenty-five? Young people today have zero respect for life.” Luke sighed. “Don’t say that, Dr. Sarah. We don’t know what she was going through. Sometimes, ending it is the only escape from unbearable pain.” My mother’s voice remained cold and clinical. “It’s just weak mental strength. Letting hormones dictate their brain.” With that, they approached my body. Suddenly, I felt a spark of anticipation. Would she recognize me? If she did, what would she look like? Shocked? Remorseful? Or would she just look at me with the same deep disgust she had when she heard my name? Unfortunately, before she could pull back the white sheet, her phone rang. Her face paled instantly. “What?! She had another relapse?!” “Is Chloe okay? What did the doctors say?” As she spoke, she threw a pleading look at Marcus. Marcus pursed his lips but eventually nodded, letting her go. Bitterness flooded my ghostly chest. My workaholic mother, who never put anything before her job, was actually begging her colleague to let her leave for a family emergency. But “family” never included me. Even in death, she didn’t look at me. At least I died near the police precinct. Otherwise, I doubted anyone would have even bothered to bury me. My soul followed my mother. She drove like a maniac, cursing at every slow driver in front of her. Yet, she still stopped by a florist to carefully select a bouquet of fresh lilies. “Chloe, my poor baby…” My mother’s eyes welled with tears as she stroked Chloe’s hair in the hospital room. “It’s all Hazel’s fault. If she weren’t so selfish about the kidney donation, you wouldn’t have to suffer like this.” Aunt Clara, who was standing by the window, looked displeased. “Sarah, Hazel is your daughter too.” I was raised by Clara. She was the only one who had ever given me warmth. And because I knew what love felt like, I knew exactly how much my mother hated me. “Don’t talk like that. If Hazel heard you, she’d be heartbroken.” “Sigh… I wonder how she’s doing abroad. I hope she’s not being mistreated.” To keep Clara from worrying, I had told her six months ago that I was moving abroad to live with a friend. Tears spilled from my spectral eyes. I apologized to her in my heart over and over again. I’m sorry, Aunt Clara. I’m so sorry. I can’t be with you anymore. My mother’s face twisted in disgust. “Clara, I’ve told you a thousand times. Chloe is my only daughter!” Clara said solemnly, “Sarah, that was a mistake you made when you were young and foolish. Hazel is innocent.” “You’ve treated her like an enemy for years. But did you ever think? A child doesn’t get to choose her parents.” Chloe was the child of my mother and her true love—a firefighter who died in the line of duty. Chloe was my mother’s obsession, her living memory of him. I, on the other hand, was the mistake. The product of a reckless, drunken night with a high school deadbeat. My very existence was a constant reminder of her youthful stupidity. The guy ran off and reportedly died in a street fight years ago. I shouldn’t have existed. But my mother’s uterine lining was too thin. If she had aborted me, she could never have had children again. So, swallowing her disgust, she gave birth to me. Clara always told me not to hate my mother. She said everyone makes mistakes, and I was just dealt a bad hand in life. Everyone makes mistakes. And I spent my entire life paying for theirs.

“Clara, let’s not talk about this. Can you call Hazel for me? Please, beg her to donate the kidney. For Chloe’s sake.” Chloe’s face was pale, and she still hadn’t woken up. My mother’s heart was breaking; she wished she could take Chloe’s place on that hospital bed. Sarah was a good mother. Just never to me. Clara sighed, pulling out her phone to call my number. It had indeed been a long time since we last spoke. “Hello? Is this Hazel’s family?” Clara said yes, but an officer’s voice answered. “I am so sorry to inform you… Hazel has passed away.” “We need you to come down to the precinct. There are some details we need to clear up.” My mother snatched the phone from Clara’s hand, instantly snapping: “Tell Hazel that if she keeps playing these pathetic games, she can forget about ever coming home!” “Selfish, manipulative brat! Don’t you dare call yourself my daughter!” She slammed the phone down before the officer could respond. My mother was shaking with rage. “You see that? She’ll invent any lie, even her own death, just to get out of donating her kidney!” “She’s just as selfish as her useless father. I should have thrown her in a dumpster the moment she was born!” Floating in the air, I shook my head violently, tears pouring down my face. No, Mom. No. I didn’t lie. Four years ago, when she demanded my kidney, I told her I had cancer. I told her I couldn’t donate. But she had screamed at me: “Why do you think I raised you for eighteen years?!” “If your organs weren’t a match for Chloe, I would have dumped you at an orphanage the day you were born!” “You’re just like that animal who fathered you. You want everything, but you’ll give nothing!” Chloe had been sickly since birth. To be safe, my mother had me thoroughly tested when I was a child. I remember being so happy, thinking my mother finally cared about my health. I couldn’t sleep a wink from excitement. Only when I grew up did I realize those tests were to see if my organs matched Chloe’s. I was only four years old. My mother marched back into the precinct. “Officer Davis, I want to file a report.” Her face was dark. “My daughter, Hazel, is missing. She’s twenty-five. She’s not answering her phone or texts. She’s completely off the grid.” She refused to believe the police couldn’t track me down. This time, she would force me to give up that kidney, whether I wanted to or not. “Hazel?” Davis blinked. “Do you have a photo?” How could my mother have a photo of me on her phone? Her gallery had thousands of photos, every single one of Chloe. Eventually, Clara found an old photo of us from a few years ago on her own phone. Seeing me smiling so happily in the picture only fueled my mother’s disgust. I always had a straight face around her, but I knew how to smile for Clara. I only ever called her for money, and now that Chloe needed me, I went missing. Just like my biological father, who fled the moment he found out she was pregnant, moving overnight so she couldn’t find him. The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. “Wait…” Davis’s eyes widened in utter disbelief. “Dr. Sarah… she was your daughter?!” The girl with late-stage cancer who just committed suicide in the park… was your daughter?! My mother’s brow furrowed, a sudden, chilling dread washing over her. “You know her? How do you know Hazel?” Her eyes darkened, and she grabbed Davis’s arm in a vice grip. “Speak! How do you know her? Where is she?!” Had I really run to the police station? Had I brought my pathetic begging for money to her workplace? Her gaze turned lethal. If I were standing there, she would have torn me to pieces. “Dr. Sarah!” Marcus and Luke rushed over, their faces grim. “Dr. Sarah… we just confirmed. The female body found in the park this morning… is your daughter, Hazel.”

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My mother had severe, obsessive-compulsive OCD. Because I was born five ounces heavier than my twin sister, Clara, my mother despised me from day one. Whenever I cried myself hoarse from hunger, she would pump her leftover breast milk, store it in the fridge, and save it only for Clara. She fed Clara eight times a day with that milk. Eventually, both Clara and I ended up in the hospital. I was admitted for severe malnutrition, while Clara was hospitalized for consuming spoiled food over a long period. But that wasn’t enough for Eleanor. As Clara grew plumper under her care, Eleanor couldn’t stand how skinny and frail I was. She forced me to eat fatty pork—the one food she knew I was highly allergic to. I suffocated to death. But after I died, I found myself back inside my mother’s womb… I was dead. My mother had forced me to eat that fatty pork. My throat swelled up instantly, blocking my airway, and I suffocated to death, gasping for air. Yet, after my death, I felt it again—the familiar, warm embrace of amniotic fluid. That womb was the only place I had ever felt any semblance of maternal warmth in my entire life. In the next second, a voice echoed. “Doctor, is there any way to make my two babies come out at the exact same time?” “Mrs. Vance, you are asking for the impossible. The birth canal is only so wide. It is biologically impossible for two babies to slide out simultaneously.” Hearing this familiar conversation, a bolt of lightning flashed through my mind, sparking a fire of realization. Sure enough, the next line from my memory came right on cue. “I don’t care! You must get them out at the exact same time! Otherwise, I’ll report you to the board for sexual harassment during delivery!” It was Eleanor. Her voice. As her words overlapped perfectly with my past life’s memories, I knew. I had been reborn. I was back in my mother’s womb, and she was currently on the delivery table. In my previous life, she had paid a fortune to a fortune teller to calculate the perfect, luckiest minute for her babies to be born. But she was carrying twins. Chloe and Clara. It was physically impossible for us to be born at the exact same second. And I, in my mother’s words, was greedy. I had fought to come out first, which immediately earned me the reputation of being a curse to the family. Clara, on the other hand, was the lucky one. She was born at the exact minute the fortune teller had predicted. So, when the doctor announced that I was five ounces heavier than Clara, Eleanor didn’t even look at me. She furrowed her brow and immediately put me on a “diet.” I didn’t get a single drop of breast milk. I was forced to fast. That was why I grew up malnourished. Later on, my body lost the ability to absorb nutrients properly, leaving me perpetually thin and weak. Since Eleanor had given birth to twins, her milk supply was abundant. She would pump the milk Clara couldn’t finish, store it in the fridge, and feed Clara eight times a day. In the end, she successfully sent both of us to the ER. I went in for starvation; Clara went in for food poisoning from spoiled milk.

Right now, threatened by Eleanor, the delivering obstetrician was furious, but she had to swallow her anger and keep working. This time, however, I fought back. I struggled inside, desperately refusing to be born first. “We have a breech presentation!” “It’s a difficult labor!” “To the husband, we highly recommend an emergency C-section. Please sign the consent form immediately.” “No way! C-section babies are stupid! You can’t cut her open. She has to have a natural birth!” That piercing, screeching voice belonged to my grandmother, Martha. She was the one who always enabled Eleanor’s madness. The two of them always teamed up, leaving my father, Richard, completely speechless. So, Eleanor chose needless suffering. Risking severe postpartum hemorrhaging, she stubbornly pushed both Clara and me out naturally. Of course, she was too exhausted to frame the doctor for harassment this time. In this life, neither of us was the “lucky baby.” We started on the exact same foot. But I was still five ounces heavier than Clara. “Mom, go buy ten more digital scales. I don’t believe this. They are identical twins. How can their weights be different?” Eleanor frowned. After weighing Clara and me eight times on the scale, she dragged her hands through her hair in a fit of rage. Martha was a bully to outsiders, but in front of Eleanor, she was as obedient as a lamb. She immediately went out to buy more scales. But unfortunately, our weights fluctuated slightly on every single scale. Eleanor had a complete meltdown. She pointed at me, her face twisted with annoyance. “Take her away! She’s too aggressive. She must have stolen Clara’s nutrients while they were in my womb.” “Starve her for a few feedings. That will teach her to be quiet.” In my last life, my chronic stomach issues started right here. Having a second chance at life, I refused to let history repeat itself. But crying in front of Eleanor would do nothing but annoy her more. So, I waited. I kept my mouth shut until 4:00 PM—the exact time Richard usually came home from work. Then, I let out the most piercing, agonizing wail I could muster. The sound was so heartbreaking that Richard didn’t even change his shoes. He practically flew into the house to find me. Just as my throat was about to blow out from screaming, Richard finally found me—stuffed inside the drum of the front-load washing machine.

Yes, I had been shoved into the washing machine. Eleanor had ordered Martha to starve me. But whenever Martha wasn’t looking, I would crawl around looking for crumbs. Annoyed by my constant movement, Martha had simply thrown me into the washing machine drum. Out of sight, out of mind. “Eleanor! How could you let your mother put the baby in there?” Eleanor was genuinely shocked when she saw me in the washing machine. She didn’t even yell back at Richard. Instead, she turned to Martha. “Mom, why did you put Chloe in the washing machine?” “Didn’t you say she needed to lose weight? A few spins in the dryer would definitely shake the fat off her!” Hearing Martha’s ridiculous logic, the usually silent Richard finally snapped. “Martha, that machine is for laundry! She is a baby! What if you had killed her?” “What could possibly happen? I’m an elder, I have experience! Do you think I don’t know what I’m doing?” “Mind your own business!” Seeing that Richard dared to talk back to her, Martha exploded, screaming and cursing at him. But Richard was truly angry this time. No matter how much she yelled, he didn’t back down. Finally, Eleanor couldn’t stand the noise and cut them off. “Richard! My mother is your elder. How dare you raise your voice at her?” “The baby is fine, isn’t she? What is there to argue about?” Because Richard had been poor when they were young, and Eleanor had stayed with him through his early struggles, he always yielded to her out of gratitude. The moment Eleanor spoke, Richard’s anger died down, though he muttered a resentful, “It’ll be too late when something actually happens.” He picked me up and marched into his study. I tried to make him understand that I was starving. I grabbed his hand and began chewing on his fingers. He finally got the message, looked at me with pity, and carried me back to Eleanor for a feeding. But Eleanor looked at him coldly and slammed the door in his face. “She’s already five ounces heavier than Clara. Why on earth should she eat?”

I will never forget the look of sheer shock and fury on Richard’s face that day. No matter how hard he pounded on the door, no matter how much he yelled, Eleanor remained indifferent. Furious, Richard packed me up, drove straight to his office, bought baby formula, and began raising me himself. In my past life, I had never been put in the washing machine. Back then, Richard had come home in a rush, said a quick word to Eleanor, and immediately left on a business trip. I had always assumed he condoned her treatment of me. But now, I realized he actually loved me. During those days, as he constantly researched baby care online and asked coworkers for advice, I was raised wonderfully. I was healthy, chubby, and happy. But this change was eventually discovered when Eleanor decided to visit his office on a whim. And that was when her madness escalated to a whole new level. “Richard, didn’t I tell you she wasn’t allowed to eat? Why is she still so fat?” Eleanor’s fingers pinched hard into my baby fat. I burst into tears from the pain. Richard quickly rescued me from her grip. My healthy, chubby appearance was his absolute pride. These days, he loved showing me off to everyone, boasting that he raised me single-handedly, basking in their compliments. Hearing Eleanor call me fat made Richard extremely unhappy. “Babies are supposed to be chubby! Look how cute she is!” His tone was joyful, but Eleanor looked like she was about to lose her mind. She demanded that Richard pack up my things and bring me back to the family house immediately. I was put on those ten scales again. This time, I was a full pound heavier than Clara. We didn’t even look like twins anymore; I looked like her older sister. Eleanor’s face turned incredibly dark. Yet, Richard, who had developed a strong paternal instinct, was still babbling happily. “See how well I raised Chloe? Clara is way too thin. Why don’t you let me take care of both of them?” “That way, you can get some rest, too.” He meant well, but to Eleanor, his words were a direct mockery of her parenting and a disruption of her perfect plan.

“Richard, look at them! Do they even look like twins anymore? You’ve raised Chloe into a pig!” “They are twins! They are supposed to look exactly the same!” As Eleanor spoke, she began to cry tears of sheer frustration. Richard knew about her OCD, but still, he tried to reason with her. “It’s normal for twins to look a bit different, Eleanor.” “There are no two identical people in the world. Besides, they could be fraternal twins…” Richard tried to talk science, but Eleanor couldn’t hear a word. She slapped him across the face. “Richard! I don’t care about other people! My children must be identical!” “Look at what you dressed her in! And her hair! Her weight! Everything is wrong!” In Eleanor’s eyes, everything was Richard’s fault. If I could speak, I would have asked her: “Why can’t it be that your parenting is just terrible?” “Why do I have to shape my life to match Clara’s?” I was the older twin, yet in both lives, Eleanor favored Clara, making her the gold standard for everything. Having been slapped for no reason, Richard’s patience snapped. The anger he had suppressed for years finally erupted, and he roared back at her. “Eleanor Vance! Do you honestly believe you are the only correct person in this entire world?” “Squeezing the toothpaste from the middle is a crime to you! Stepping into the house with my left foot first is a crime! Wearing a gray tie with a black suit is a crime! Even the order in which I eat my dinner is a crime in this house!” “And now, raising a child to be healthy is a crime too?” “Eleanor, you are the one who is sick! I have had enough of your madness!” Richard looked magnificent. He had voiced the very questions I had kept locked in my heart for over a decade in my past life. Eleanor was stunned into silence. I couldn’t tell if she actually processed his words or if she was just shocked by his sudden defiance. Silence filled the room. After a long while, Eleanor still didn’t speak, but tears streamed down her face like broken pearls. Ultimately, Richard sighed and softened.

But he only apologized for yelling at her. When it came to child-rearing, Richard stood his ground. My glowing health was his ultimate proof. Suddenly, Clara began to twitch and convulse on her crib. The tense atmosphere shattered as my parents rushed both of us to the hospital. In my past life, Clara and I had been hospitalized at the same time. The doctor had diagnosed me with severe malnutrition and Clara with food poisoning from spoiled breast milk. This life was no different. Once the test results came out, the pediatrician looked at Eleanor with sheer disgust. “The children are too young to know any better, but are you adults brainless too?” “How could you feed a baby spoiled breast milk?” Confronted with the diagnosis, Eleanor’s immediate reaction was denial. “That’s impossible!” “Your hospital must have misdiagnosed her!” Ignoring the doctor’s warnings, she grabbed Clara and ran to every single hospital in the city to get second opinions. The results were all identical. And because of her stubbornness, Clara’s treatment was severely delayed. By the time Clara was admitted to the ICU, Eleanor collapsed again. She sat on the hallway floor of the hospital, shrieking and deflecting blame. “This is all your fault, Richard! You never come home! You don’t care if we live or die! Now Clara is in the ICU! Are you happy now?” Richard, who was genuinely worried about Clara, looked at her in utter disbelief. “Eleanor, I know you’re anxious about Clara, but she is my daughter too! I am just as worried as you are!” “How could you say that to me?” More and more passersby began to gather. Eleanor looked hysterical and aggressive, while Richard was calmly holding me in his arms. The crowd’s sympathy naturally leaned toward my father. Realizing people were judging her, Eleanor grew even more agitated.

She marched over, her sharp acrylic nail digging pointing aggressively into my face. “You care about Clara? Really?” “Since the day they were born, all your attention has been on Chloe! You left Clara entirely to me!” “What right do you have to say you care about her?” Seeing me being threatened, and pushed to his limit by Eleanor’s public accusations, Richard threw all decorum out the window. “Enough!” “You claim I favor Chloe? Why don’t you tell everyone here why a grown man like me has to bring his baby daughter to his office every single day?” “It’s because of you! Because Chloe was born five ounces heavier, you tried to starve her! You even let your mother stuff her into a washing machine to ‘spin the fat off’!” “You would rather let your extra breast milk rot in the fridge than give Chloe a single drop!” “Clara is lying in that ICU right now because you forced her to drink that spoiled, putrid milk!” Richard’s voice trembled with raw emotion. The onlookers instantly believed him and began whispering among themselves, casting disgusted looks at Eleanor. Even the attending doctors hadn’t realized the cause of Clara’s illness was so absurd. Their attitude toward Eleanor shifted instantly to cold disdain. Exposed in public, Eleanor’s rage blinded her. “Divorce!” she shrieked. To end the public scene, Richard agreed to keep her quiet. But Eleanor suddenly lunged forward, trying to tear me from his arms. “I gave birth to them! You won’t get either of them!” Richard refused to let go. In the struggle, Eleanor’s nails clawed across Richard’s face, drawing blood that dripped onto my baby clothes. At that moment, the fake agreement turned into a final decision. The one demanding a divorce now was Richard.

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On the third night of our graduation road trip, we were playing Truth or Dare at our Airbnb. Chloe got a Dare. She had to imitate someone in the room. She rolled her eyes, sat stiffly on the couch, and started reading in a robotic, monotone voice. The rest of our classmates burst into hysterics. Tyler laughed so hard he cried. He slapped my shoulder and said, “Avery, oh my god, that is literally you! You’re such a robot. Why can’t you learn to loosen up like Chloe?” I stared at their smug, knowing smiles and said nothing. Since we were kids, they had always used me as their personal punching bag to boost their own egos. I brushed Tyler’s hand off my shoulder and stood up. I grabbed the cup of Coke from the table and poured it directly over Chloe’s head. “Since you guys love setting the mood so much, enjoy the rest of the night yourselves.” I left our three-person Snapchat group and walked out of the Airbnb. The Coke dripped down Chloe’s blonde hair, staining her expensive white dress. The living room went dead silent. The only sound was Chloe’s sharp gasp. “Avery, what is your problem?” Tyler was the first to react. He leaped up, knocking over a can of beer on the table. “Are you insane, Avery?” “It’s just a game! Do you really have to take everything so seriously? You’re such a sore loser!” I looked at his furious face and let out a cold laugh. It was always like this. Like when Chloe ridiculed my style, mocking me for wearing sports bras instead of lace. When I told her to shut up, they both accused me of “not being able to take a joke.” “Yeah, I am a sore loser. I take everything seriously.” “And I’m done playing your pathetic games.” I turned on my heel and walked out the door. The three of us grew up next door to each other. We were supposed to be childhood friends. In the beginning, we actually had fun. Chloe was beautiful and would pick out cute hair clips for me. Tyler was loyal. He’d go shopping with us and stand up for me if anyone tried to bully me. But somewhere along the way, everything changed. In high school, Chloe and Tyler were placed in the same class. I was in another. Chloe gradually became the center of the social scene, and Tyler became her devoted white knight, letting her get away with anything. And me? I became the “boring, uptight nerd who couldn’t take a joke.” I was just the shadow trailing behind them. I had even given up my dream university just to go to the same college as them. The night air was freezing. I pulled out my phone and ordered an Uber. “Take me to the nearest train station.” Once inside the car, I opened Snapchat. I found our pinned group chat, “The Golden Trio,” and hit leave. The second I left, my phone vibrated. Tyler’s name flashed on the screen. I answered it. “Avery, what the hell is wrong with you?” Tyler’s voice was thick with suppressed rage. “Chloe was just playing a game. Was it really necessary to pour Coke on her? She’s sobbing her eyes out in the bathroom right now!” In the past, seeing Chloe cry would make me anxious. I would immediately start blaming myself, wondering if I had done something wrong. Tyler knew that about me. That was why he always used guilt to control me. But this time, I felt absolutely nothing. “She can cry all she wants. What does that have to do with me?” Tyler’s tone shifted to disgust. “I am so disappointed in you, Avery.” “We’re supposed to be celebrating, and you have to ruin the mood. It’s bad enough that you’re usually a buzzkill, but now you’re just being malicious. Just come back, apologize to her, and we’ll forget this ever happened.” It was always the same script. Even when Chloe “accidentally” spilled coffee on my laptop, forcing me to rewrite my entire senior thesis. Tyler had said: “She didn’t mean to. Don’t be so dramatic. Just let her apologize and move on.” “I’m not coming back.” “Avery!” Tyler raised his voice. “Where are you even going to go? You don’t know anyone around here. Stop throwing a tantrum and get back here!” “Tyler, don’t ever contact me again.” I hung up and instantly blocked his number. Then, I blocked Chloe. Looking at my clean contact list, I leaned back against the seat. Outside the window, the streetlights blurred past. The train station was practically empty. I bought a ticket for the earliest train back to the city. During the four-hour ride, I didn’t sleep a wink. Instead, I deleted every single photo, video, and shared note involving them. The suffocating, nauseating weight in my chest finally lifted.

At 6:00 AM, I pushed open the door to my dorm room. Most of our classmates had already moved out. Only Chloe’s and my things remained. Chloe’s desk was covered in unwashed mugs and scattered makeup. Usually, I would have cleaned up after her. Today, I didn’t even look at it. I pulled out two large cardboard boxes and started packing my life away. I didn’t have much. Most of the room’s space had been taken up by Chloe’s random clutter anyway. While sorting through the bookshelf, a thick binder containing my senior thesis fell out. I flipped to the acknowledgments page. Chloe had written: “Special thanks to Avery. Even though you’re as boring as a robot, thanks for doing all my data analysis.” I threw the entire binder straight into the trash can. During our junior year summer, Chloe wanted to go to a music festival, so she dumped her entire research workload on me. I pulled two all-nighters to build her statistical models. The day she submitted it, she and Tyler went out for expensive sushi to celebrate. Tyler posted a picture of them clinking glasses on Instagram with the caption: “Celebrating my girl Chloe crushing her thesis!” Someone in the comments asked where I was. Tyler replied: “A certain someone is still typing away in the dorm. We have different roles in this squad, lol. Plus, she hates going out anyway.” I had felt so hurt back then, yet I still liked the post. Looking back, that wasn’t trying to fit in. That was just pure stupidity. Two hours later, I rolled my suitcase out of the dorm. I had already rented a cute one-bedroom apartment near my new office. While riding in the Uber to my new place, a text from an unknown number popped up. “Avery, what is the meaning of blocking us? Chloe didn’t even eat dinner last night. Haven’t you played this drama long enough? We’ll be at the campus cafe at 2 PM. Get over here and let’s talk this out.” I deleted the text immediately. Then, I blocked the number. Once I arrived at my new apartment, I spent the entire afternoon cleaning and organizing. No cloying sweet candles that Chloe liked. No ugly action figures Tyler forced me to display. The whole place smelled of clean linen, decorated with simple, aesthetic bedding I chose myself. That evening, I went downstairs and treated myself to a bowl of pasta. When I paid, the owner smiled and said, “New to the neighborhood, sweetie? You look like you’re ready to take on the world.” I smiled back. “Thank you.” Back home, I opened my laptop and checked my onboarding email for tomorrow. Vanguard Consulting—one of the top elite consulting firms in the country. I landed this offer entirely on my own. I had never told them. Tomorrow was a brand new beginning.

Vanguard Consulting was located in a towering skyscraper in the heart of the financial district. At 9:00 AM sharp, I was sitting in the conference room for orientation. After HR introduced us to the company structure, they led the new hires to the main floor. “This is the head of Project Group Six, Julian Vance.” I looked up. A man in a charcoal-gray button-down stood in front of a whiteboard, marker in hand. He turned around, his sharp gaze sweeping over us. His voice was cool and commanding. “I’m Julian Vance.” “In my team, I care about results, not seniority. If you have a problem, tell me directly. I don’t do office politics.” After assigning our desks, Julian handed me my first task. I had to clean up and compile a competitor analysis report for the new energy sector. The data was massive and incredibly messy. I immediately sat down, broke down the numbers, and started building the model. By 5:00 PM, I sent the completed report to his email. Ten minutes later, he walked over to my desk. “Avery.” I stood up. “I reviewed the report. Your logic is clean, and you hit the key metrics perfectly.” Julian looked at me, his expression neutral. “Good job.” I blinked, momentarily stunned. “Is there a problem?” he asked. “No, nothing.” I shook my head. “Thank you, Mr. Vance.” He nodded and walked back into his glass office. I sat down, my palms slightly sweaty. Growing up, Tyler and Chloe’s feedback was always: “You’re just a bookworm.” or “What’s the point of doing all this? You’re still just a nerd.” Even during college group projects, they would take my written reports and present them on stage. They got the praise, while I was treated like a background extra. This was the first time in my life someone recognized my work directly, as an equal. No backhanded compliments, no degrading remarks. On the subway ride home, I received a text from Sarah, our college class president. It was a screenshot of Chloe’s Instagram. It was a selfie of her and Tyler at the airport, both looking exhausted and miserable. Caption: “Ten years of friendship, destroyed over a tiny misunderstanding. Some people just drift away. Maybe we weren’t worth it.” Below, Tyler commented: “Some people just don’t know how to appreciate you. You still have me.” Sarah messaged me privately: “Avery, what happened between you guys? Chloe was throwing major shade in the class group chat today. Everyone’s asking me about it.” I looked at the hypocritical post, my fingers flying across the keyboard. “Sarah, please don’t send me anything about them anymore.” “Also, I am completely done with both of them.” I closed the app. When I stepped out of the subway, it was raining. I didn’t have an umbrella, but I didn’t run. I walked home slowly, letting the cool rain fall on my shoulders. It felt incredibly refreshing.

By my second week, I had completely adapted to Vanguard’s fast pace. To my surprise, although Julian was a demanding boss, he was fiercely protective of his team. On Thursday afternoon, we had an initial pitch meeting with a major client. Halfway through, one of the client’s directors sharply questioned a specific data point. The tension in the boardroom instantly spiked. Instead of defensive backtracking, Julian calmly turned to me. “Avery, you ran the core data. You explain it.” I stood up. I pulled up my backup slides and broke down the entire derivation process clearly and confidently. The client director listened, stayed silent for a few seconds, and then nodded. “Very solid.” After the meeting, Julian stopped me in the hallway. “You did great back there.” He handed me a bottle of water. “Quick on your feet. You didn’t panic.” I took the bottle. “Thank you.” “You’re not just detail-oriented; you’re an excellent communicator.” Julian’s tone was matter-of-fact. “I want you in on all future client-facing meetings.” I gripped the plastic bottle. “An excellent communicator.” Chloe had once ridiculed me in front of our entire class, saying I was socially inept. But here, in a real, professional environment, a top industry expert was telling me I was excellent. For the first time, a wave of genuine gratitude toward Julian washed over me. On Friday evening, I packed up my bag and walked out of the office lobby. The moment I stepped onto the plaza, I spotted someone standing by the stairs. Tyler. He was wearing a wrinkled jacket, with a duffel bag sitting by his feet. Seeing me, he quickly blocked my path. “I knew I’d find you here.” He glared at me. “Move, Tyler.” “Wow, Avery, look at you now.” Tyler let out a harsh laugh. “Blocking our numbers, packing up your dorm in secret, and getting a job without telling us. You think you’re so cool, don’t you?” I looked at him coldly. “What I do is none of your business.” I tried to step around him, but he grabbed my wrist. “Don’t walk away from me.” Tyler reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a thick manila envelope, waving it in my face. In the top right corner was the red seal of our university’s Registrar’s Office. My eyes narrowed. It was my diploma and my Latin Honors certificate. Because I had left campus early for my background check, the office required an authorized student to pick them up. Before our fallout, I had signed a release form giving Tyler permission to collect them. Without these original documents, Vanguard couldn’t finalize my permanent employment contract. “Recognize this?” Tyler smirked, looking smugly confident. “Chloe hasn’t slept in days because of your little tantrum. We’re supposed to be friends. Why do you have to make things so ugly?” “You’re both girls, why do you have to tear her down? What’s that term online… ‘internalized misogyny’? Are you just jealous because she’s more popular than you?” My fists clenched. “Me wanting nothing to do with you guys is targeting her?” “Tyler, you are literally insane!” It was the first time I had ever cursed at him. Tyler froze, startled. But he quickly pulled the envelope back, hiding it behind his back. “Now, pull out your phone and apologize to Chloe.” “Otherwise, you can kiss your degree goodbye.”

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Chloe was the most obsessive copycat at St. Jude’s Prep. Whatever tablet brand I bought, she’d get the exact same one, even if she had to finance it in installments. I signed up for a niche Latin course, and she registered too, even though she barely knew the alphabet. Everyone thought she was just desperate to fit into our high-society circle. Until late one night, I heard a cold, mechanical voice in my head: [Ding! Learning trajectory alignment has reached 80%. Actively stripping Vivian of her Ivy League early admission spot and her IQ.] Hidden behind my canopy bed curtains, I smiled silently. So, she was using a sci-fi system to steal the Ivy League offers I had pulled countless all-nighters for? The next night, I sat on my dorm balcony, chugging a glass of thick, crimson liquid. I even drew a few creepy, mystical runes on my face. I purposely complained to a friend on FaceTime, my voice loud enough to carry: “Ever since I started drinking this raw deer blood from a European Wiccan, my brain feels as sharp as a quantum computer.” In reality, it was just organic beet juice mixed with thick tomato paste. That very night, I watched Chloe climb over the school fence, heading straight toward the wild deer woods behind the campus.

I sat at the kitchen island in our dorm, slicing an avocado with a silver fork. The door swung open. Emma pinched her nose, her face twisting in pure disgust. “What the… what is that smell? It smells a hundred times worse than a dead rat in a Brooklyn sewer!” Just as she spoke, Chloe dragged herself into the room. Her tweed Chanel-style jacket—the one she had saved up for months to buy two days ago—was covered in brown mud. Dark, suspicious animal droppings clung to her hem. Her carefully styled hair looked like a bird’s nest. A nasty scratch from a thorn bush cut across her left cheek, and she reeked of rotting copper and wild animal sweat. Emma gasped, taking two large steps back. “Chloe, did you pick a fight with a wild boar in the woods?” Chloe grit her teeth, forcing herself to stand straight, but her eyes kept darting toward me. “What do you guys know?” she sneered. “I was performing an ancient European aristocratic cognitive ritual. Once I pass this phase, my IQ will experience a massive leap.” I raised my bone china cup and took a slow, elegant sip of my black coffee. “Oh? Good luck with your awakening then.” Right at that moment, a mechanical voice rang sharply in the air, heard only by me. [Warning! Host has ingested unfiltered wild animal blood and contracted an unknown intestinal parasite.] [Host has developed acute gastroenteritis. Physical functions compromised. IQ rating decreased by 2 points.] [The stripping progress has dropped back to 75%. Host, please cease self-destructive behavior immediately!] Chloe froze. Her face turned from pale to a sickly, moldy green. “Gurgle—” A loud, violent rumble erupted from her stomach. Clutching her abdomen, Chloe threw all her “aristocratic grace” out the window. She shoved Emma aside and sprinted frantically into the bathroom. Soon, the unmistakable, stomach-churning sounds of violent diarrhea echoed through the door. Emma waved her hand in front of her nose, her face full of disgust. “Is she insane? Going out in the middle of the night to eat wild animals? Does she think she’s in a vampire movie?” I set down my coffee cup and gracefully dabbed my mouth with a napkin. So, only Chloe and I could hear that mechanical voice. Perfect.

Chloe was bedridden for three whole days. She was so dehydrated from diarrhea that she missed two major pop quizzes in our core classes. When she finally dragged herself back to class, sporting two massive dark circles under her eyes, it happened to be Mr. Wilson’s Latin class. Mr. Wilson was notoriously strict at St. Jude’s. He tapped the blackboard, pointing at a classical Roman poem, and locked his eyes right on Chloe in the back row. “Chloe, since you chose to take this advanced classical literature course, please translate this passage from Julius Caesar for the class.” Chloe stood up slowly, staring at the letters. Cold sweat broke out on her forehead. She hadn’t even memorized basic Latin conjugations, let alone a complex classical translation. The lecture hall fell dead silent. Chloe stuttered for a long time before muttering, “Caesar said… he was going for a walk in Rome today.” The entire class burst into roaring laughter. Mr. Wilson’s face darkened instantly. “If your mind isn’t on academics, do not take this class just to boost your social vanity! This place is not a playground for your resume. Twenty participation points deducted. Sit down!” Chloe bit her lower lip in humiliation. She glared at me with pure hatred before taking her seat. Ever since she transferred to this school, she had hated my guts. Another roommate of mine had privately told me that Chloe constantly called me a fraud behind my back. She claimed I was just a dumb rich girl and swore she would get me expelled. It was around that time that I realized I could hear her “System.” Right on cue, the mechanical voice buzzed in my mind. [Warning! Host’s Latin grade has plummeted. The gap between you and the target, Vivian, has widened!] [Current copycat progress has dropped to 60%. If it falls below 50%, the system will initiate a forced unbinding penalty!] After class, I returned to the dorm’s common area, pulled a futuristic silver metal band from my bag, and clipped it around my neck. It was actually just a ten-dollar neck massager I bought on Amazon. I had paid a guy at the local hardware store to plate it in cool silver and engrave a fake high-tech logo on it. Emma leaned in, curiously tapping the metal ring. “Vivian, what is this new toy?” I pressed the power button, and the ring emitted a soft, high-tech hum. I raised my voice, making sure Chloe, who had just walked through the door, could hear every word. “My dad got it for me from a Silicon Valley neuro-lab. It’s a neural brainwave stimulator. Apparently, it stimulates the hippocampus with micro-currents. You can memorize an entire textbook just by flipping through it once.” “But it’s so hard to get,” I sighed. “It costs a hundred and twenty thousand dollars, and there’s a massive waiting list.” Emma gasped, playing along perfectly. “A hundred and twenty grand?! For a little metal ring? Well, I guess for an Ivy League admission, that investment is nothing.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chloe staring at my neck. The greed and jealousy in her eyes were practically dripping.

Less than a week later, Chloe actually showed up with an identical silver metal ring wrapped around her neck. On Friday afternoon, she walked into the campus library with her chin held high, purposefully taking the seat right across from Emma and me. Emma rolled her eyes and whispered, “Unbelievable. Did this copycat rob a bank? How did she afford a hundred and twenty thousand dollar device?” I kept my head down, flipping through my Microeconomics textbook. “Who knows. I heard there are plenty of shady online payday loan apps catering to desperate students outside campus lately.” Across from us, Chloe straightened her back, clicked her neckband on, and sneered. “It’s just a learning device. Don’t project your narrow views on me. If some people can afford it, so can I.” She opened her book, putting on a show of intense concentration. The mechanical voice echoed. [Detecting host wearing the same external device. Attempting to sync and analyze data…] [Analysis failed. Warning: This device does not emit any cognitive enhancement waves. It only possesses basic physical vibration functions.] Chloe’s hand froze on her page. Her face paled. She screamed at the system in her mind, “How is that possible? Vivian read three thick books yesterday while wearing it! Your scanner must be broken! I borrowed a hundred and thirty thousand dollars from those online lenders to get this imported!” To prove to her system that the “god-tier device” worked, she grit her teeth and pushed the massager’s vibration setting to level nine—the absolute maximum. A loud, piercing hum vibrated through the dead-silent library. Nearby students frowned, glaring at her. But Chloe ignored them, keeping her eyes glued to her book. Exactly twenty minutes later. Due to her neck muscles being forced into violent, high-frequency spasms, Chloe suddenly let out a blood-curdling shriek. “Ahhh!” Her book slammed onto the table. Her neck was completely locked at a bizarre, unnatural angle, tilted sharply to the left. She reached up to tear the band off, but the acute muscle spasm made even the slightest movement excruciating. Her face contorted in agony. The librarian rushed over and immediately called 911. By the time the paramedics arrived to wheel her out on a stretcher, her head was still pinned to her shoulder like a broken puppet. She was groaning in pain the entire way. [Warning! Host has suffered acute muscle spasms. Learning efficiency for this week has reset to zero.] [Copycat progress has dropped to 55%.] [Warning: Host must obtain a core recommendation letter from the Academic Club within three days, or the mission will fail!]

The severe neck injury threw Chloe into a complete panic. She probably couldn’t understand why her omnipotent system was suddenly failing her. A day later, Chloe returned to school wearing a thick, ridiculous neck brace. Every student at St. Jude’s knew that Arthur, the president of the Academic Club, held a highly coveted Ivy League recommendation letter. This was Chloe’s last saving grace. On Thursday afternoon, I stood by the lockers, talking loudly to Emma as Chloe approached. “Are you ready for Arthur’s Ivy League prep gala tomorrow night? Have you picked out your perfume?” Emma looked confused. “Perfume? Isn’t a light, clean scent fine?” I shook my head, lowering my voice mysteriously. “Arthur comes from an ultra-traditional, Old Money family. He has severe allergies and OCD. He privately told me he despises modern synthetic perfumes.” “What he truly appreciates is raw, earthy scents, like dried mugwort and aged cedarwood. He says it smells like old libraries and academic heritage. I had a private perfumer mix a bottle of pure herbal oils just for tomorrow.” In the shadow of the hallway corridor, a piece of fabric flicked. I smiled slightly. She had swallowed the bait. Friday night, the St. Jude’s grand ballroom was bathed in golden light. Arthur, dressed in a flawless tuxedo, stood by the champagne tower, chatting with some boarding members. Suddenly, the heavy doors opened. Chloe walked in wearing a poorly fitted, clearly rented gown, with her thick neck brace still on. She marched straight toward Arthur. As she drew near, a suffocating, pungent odor of cheap insect repellent mixed with burnt weeds blasted through the air. The surrounding socialites and heirs immediately gagged, covering their noses and backing away. Arthur, who suffered from chronic sinusitis, took the blast of odor right to his face. His stomach churned violently, and he dropped his champagne glass, splashing it all over the floor. He clutched his nose and mouth, his face turning red with rage. “Did you douse yourself in industrial pesticide? Get away from me!” The ballroom erupted into uncontrollable snickers. Chloe froze, the color draining from her face. She whipped her head around, her eyes locking onto me. I was standing in the crowd, sipping sparkling water and enjoying the show. [Ding—System Warning! Core social relationship has collapsed. Progress has fallen below the 50% safety line!] Chloe’s eyes turned bloodshot. She looked like a rabid dog pushed into a corner. Suddenly, she spun around and sprinted toward the main stage in the center of the ballroom. She snatched the microphone from the host and violently plugged her phone into the massive projection screen behind her. “Don’t let Vivian fool you!” she shrieked, her voice echoing through the speakers. The giant screen flashed, revealing a detailed transaction log from an online academic ghostwriting agency. Highlighted in bright red was “Vivian Sinclair” along with wire transfers totaling tens of thousands of dollars. Chloe pointed a trembling finger at me, screaming righteously, “Vivian bought her Ivy League admission!” “All her papers, all her honors, were written by paid ghosts! She is nothing but an academic fraud! How can our school tolerate a criminal like her?” The room fell dead silent. Every eye in the room turned to me. Emma gasped, nearly dropping her glass. But I stood calmly in the spotlight, looking at the transaction log on the screen, and gently swirled my water.

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