Category: English

I am a hitman. During a mission, my partner—my ride-or-die—shot me in the head. Over my corpse, he whispered, “I’m sorry. The target is my wife. To protect her, I had to kill you.” My soul was utterly speechless. Bro, do you not have a mouth? If it’s your wife, couldn’t you just say so? We could have just skipped the job! Was it necessary to blow my brains out?! When I opened my eyes again, I was back three minutes before the shot. 1 It was a sunny morning. My partner and I were prone on a secluded rooftop, butts in the air, staring intently at a black sedan parked in front of the hospital across the street. Inside sat our target. Moments later, the car door opened. A slender, pale leg extended out, stepping onto the pavement with delicate grace. The moment her foot touched the ground, I sprang up and shouted, “Hey! Isn’t that your wife?” Startled, my partner flinched, nearly misfiring. He turned his head, his eyes screaming interrogation: She only showed half a leg! Which eye told you that’s my wife? I smiled but said nothing. Damn it, if I didn’t yell fast enough, what if you popped me again? I turned back. The woman had exited the car. Soft, curly hair framing gentle, beautiful features. A breathtaking beauty. My partner stared at his wife, his face melting into happiness. But before we could say hello, a refined-looking man got out of the car. The man hugged the wife, tenderly stroking her belly. They looked like the perfect couple, radiating the glow of expectant parents. My greeting stuck in my throat. I didn’t dare make a sound. But my partner was different. Not only did he dare to speak, he dared to shoot. Bang! He fired. The bullet hit the man right between the eyes. Bodyguards spotted us instantly and swarmed. My partner gazed at his screaming wife from afar, gave a tragic smile, and turned the gun on himself. Bang! He ate the bullet. He killed a guy, exposed our position, and then left me behind to commit suicide!!! The bodyguards arrived fast. Their batons hurt like hell. Before I was beaten to death, my only thought was: Never team up with an idiot. Fuck! 2 Yes, I respawned again. Same sunny morning, same rooftop corner, same black car. Practice makes perfect. This time, I got smart. The moment the wife stepped out, I leaped up. “Whoa! Isn’t that your wife?” “Whoa! Is your wife pregnant?” “Whoa! Does your wife have a… brother?” I worded it carefully. “Brother” could be a real brother, a cousin, a neighbor, or a sugar daddy. We’re adults; no need to be too specific. Before my partner could react, I dragged him downstairs and sprinted to the wife. The wife panicked. The refined man panicked too. The man forced himself to be calm, extending a hand. “Hello, I’m… Mr. King. I’m Lily’s… cousin.” I sighed internally. An honest man. These days, few people admit to being the ‘neighbor Mr. King’. My partner shook his hand, then turned to his wife. “Why are you at the hospital?” The wife instinctively covered her lower abdomen. “I… I’m pregnant…” She glanced at Cousin King. Cousin King reached out, shielding her. “Lily didn’t want to disturb your work, so she asked me to accompany her for the checkup.” My idiot partner bought it completely, his face lighting up with ecstasy. “Really? Lily, we’re having a baby!” I stood there counting on my fingers. “Mrs. Partner, how far along?” Her face paled. “Two… two months.” Great. Three months ago, my partner and I took a job overseas. We just got back today. He hasn’t even stepped through his front door, and he’s celebrating a two-month pregnancy. Could I say anything? No! Say it, and I eat a bullet! I patted my partner. “Old Xie, being a dad is great news. Smile!” He grinned like a blooming flower. After laughing enough, he remembered business. He asked his wife, “Did you offend anyone recently?” After all, we’re pros. Our jobs involve blood. Even if my partner is an idiot, anyone hiring us has a serious grudge. The wife looked confused. My partner understood. He turned to Mr. King. “Then they’re after you. Don’t worry, Cousin. With me here, no one will touch a hair on your head!” Me: Emmmmm… Great. I wanted to applaud. I wanted to sing. But before I could clap, a gunshot rang out. Pain exploded in my back. Strength drained from my body instantly. Before I hit the ground, I saw our Boss in the corner. He was wiping his gun, face twisted in rage. “I hate it when employees slack off!” 3 Do the job, get killed by partner. Don’t do the job, get killed by Boss. What to do? Respawning again, I threw my gear on the ground and went berserk. “Fuck this stupid mission! I quit!” Under my partner’s confused gaze, I leaped down the building, found the Boss’s hiding spot, dragged him out, and started kicking him. “No health insurance! Peeping on us! Shooting me! Everyone pointing guns at me! I died three times today, you know? I need a raise, you hear me?!” The Boss dodged clumsily. “Raise my ass! Health insurance? If I paid it, would you dare take it? You want to go to jail faster…” My partner came to break it up. I slapped both of them. “Break it up? Break your mom! We’re life-and-death partners, remember? You call the guy cucking you ‘brother’ and sacrifice your sworn brother?” Just then, the black car stopped. The wife got out and saw the three of us brawling. She screamed, panic all over her face. Seeing her, my anger, which had just subsided, flared up three stories high! I snapped! Why do I have to meet this woman while I’m working? Can’t you just be a normal wife? Why do you need a side piece? Fine, have a side piece, but why let my idiot partner see it?! I died three times today, and two and a half were thanks to you!!! I’d had enough! I dragged Mr. King out of the car and pointed at his nose. “Cousin? You’re probably the baby daddy!” “Is the wife’s belly your work?” “Is the green hat on my partner’s head your gift?” Mr. King’s eyes dodged. He awkwardly admitted, “How… how did you know?” He shielded the wife. “Blame me if you must. I couldn’t control my feelings…” My partner looked like he’d been struck by lightning. The wife broke down. She covered her face, crying softly. “I’m sorry. I just made a mistake that all women make.” “I love you so much, but I love him too. I didn’t know how to choose…” Oh, so you just hit “Select All”? Her eyes were swollen from crying. Mr. King looked heartbroken. He supported her and said resolutely to my partner, “If you have anger, take it out on me. Lily is innocent!” My partner ignored him. He just stared at his wife and whispered, “Lily, do you really love him?” The wife looked up with teary eyes, tragic and beautiful. “Yes, I love him. But I love you too.” She asked, “Are you willing to forgive me?” My partner froze for a moment, pushed Mr. King aside, and pulled his wife into his arms. “How could I blame you? As long as you come back…” I was dumbfounded. My god, my idiot partner is a legendary simp. Sorry I yelled earlier. You are now the person I respect most! I looked at the sky. I should be able to survive this shift now. But before I could leave, familiar pain hit my back. 4 I thought I died again. As everyone knows, dying a lot makes you desensitized. So I habitually fell to the ground. After a while, a college kid leaned over fearfully. “I just threw a pebble at you. Are you dying?” I lay there, not wanting to get up. “Who are you?” The kid whispered, “I’m the client for this mission. I want to cancel. Can I?” Before I could nod, I heard my cheapskate Boss roaring: “Brian! The mission was to kill your ex-boyfriend! You’re dating men behind my back???” I was confused. What does the client’s dating life have to do with you? Boss, you manage too much. Surprisingly, the kid gasped, “Dad?” He looked at me, looked at his dad, thought about the hit he ordered, and was shocked. “Dad, didn’t you say you were in waste recycling?” “Do you know I’m applying for a government job?” “I passed the written and interview stages, but failed the background check. I thought it was rigged.” “With your background, passing would be a miracle!!” The Boss was furious. “You have the nerve to lecture me? You always said you were straight! Since when do straight guys date men?” “I knew it!! I found stockings in your room and you said they were your partner’s! I thought you had a cute girlfriend! Turns out it’s a six-foot cute girlfriend with a mustache!” “Tell me the truth, who’s the top?” Brian stammered, “I am…” “Bullshit!” The Boss spat. “You think I don’t know anything? In manga, tops have square jaws! Your chin is sharp enough to plow a field!!” I listened with a headache. What is happening? Brian covered his face, his slim frame trembling in the wind like a little white flower. He sobbed, “Dad, sorry for lying, but I really love him!” The Boss raged, “Damn it, he cheated on you and you’re still obsessed! How did I raise such a love-brain!” He looked at the refined Mr. King nearby, murderous aura exploding. “It’s all this scumbag! Cheated my son, and cheated my employee’s wife! Today I’ll do charity work and pop this promiscuous man!” The Boss pulled his gun and fired wildly at Mr. King. The wife screamed. My partner hugged her and dodged. I stood aside, admiring the chaos, even wanting a cigarette. Great, just great. You all killed me at least once. Now taste some lead yourselves!

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My family was on the verge of bankruptcy, and I was being forced into an arranged marriage to save it. As soon as I was dropped off at the Sterling mansion, I heard shouting from inside: “I don’t care how pretty she is! I just heard her asking someone if their parents were dead! With that kind of attitude—” I silently pushed open the door, fully prepared to be rejected. The next second, the young master inside turned beet red and gasped: “Miss Hale is not only beautiful but also deeply caring. I knew my father had excellent taste. I will follow your arrangements completely.” His father: “?” Me: “?” 1 My family was facing bankruptcy, so I was packed up and sent to the Sterling estate in the middle of the night. Before I even stepped through the door, I heard a furious roar: “You old man, you control everything! Don’t you know marriage is about freedom now?! “I’m only twenty-three! I won’t marry some strange older woman! “Even if I get hit by a car the moment I step outside, I won’t agree to this ridiculous demand! “What did you say? She’s pretty? How superficial can you be! “What use is being pretty?! That girl outside is her, right? “I passed by her earlier and heard her asking someone if their parents were dead! With that kind of attitude, even a dog wouldn’t marry her!” I froze. He seemed to be talking about me. When I got out of the car, a street vendor splashed mud all over me with his cart. I was about to say something, but he immediately yelled that I was blind for not watching where I was going. We got into an argument, and he ended up asking if my parents were dead since I had no manners. So I replied, “Your parents are the ones who are dead.” Did Julian Sterling just walk past me? Well, he must have selective hearing, because he only heard me cursing, not the guy cursing me. The argument inside grew louder, accompanied by the sound of things smashing. I closed my eyes in despair. This marriage alliance was probably dead in the water. Rumor had it that Julian was the only son born to Mr. Sterling in his old age, spoiled rotten and arrogant beyond belief. And for something as big as an arranged marriage, even if the old man liked me, his son’s opinion mattered more. I sighed. Forget it. For the sake of decency, I had to at least greet Mr. Sterling. I was already here. Might as well get it over with today instead of dragging it out. Leaving my luggage at the door, I hesitated for a moment before pushing it open. “If you force me, old man, I’ll bash my head in right now!” Julian was facing the wall, head tilted back, looking fully prepared to knock himself out. I carefully extended a hand. “Um, you don’t need to kill yourself. We can just call off the engagement.” If he actually died, I’d be implicated. The thought made my scalp tingle, and I shivered. Two pairs of eyes inside the room landed on me simultaneously. “Scarlett, why are you here so early?” Old Mr. Sterling looked surprised, glancing at his crazy son with hesitation. “Scarlett, as you can see, this marriage… your father and I discussed it, but—” “Ouch!” Before Mr. Sterling could finish, Julian suddenly collapsed to the floor. He proped himself up halfway, banged his head against the wall a few times, and stared straight at me. “Miss Hale, please excuse me. When my headaches act up, banging my head helps. But I’m perfectly healthy otherwise. If you don’t believe me, we can do a pre-marital health check.” His father: “?” Me: “?” 2 Perhaps it was the supreme confidence of being in his own home. Julian showed zero embarrassment. He picked himself up from the floor and turned to me with a polite smile. “Miss Hale, you came over first thing in the morning. Did you sleep well? Would you like to catch up on some rest here?” Me: “…” “I think I heard Miss Hale showing concern for someone outside earlier. Miss Hale is truly beautiful and kind-hearted, isn’t she, Father?” His father: “…” If I hadn’t heard what he was screaming just moments before, I might have been fooled by his handsome exterior. I looked up at him. He truly lived up to the title of a young master born with a silver spoon. Tall and broad-shouldered, yet he had a pair of puppy-dog eyes that added a touch of dopey charm to his sharp, aloof features. When Julian met my gaze, his face turned crimson, and he hurriedly looked away. His comment reminded me of what he said before I entered—that I had bad manners. If his current politeness was just for show, and we broke off the engagement, I could still marry someone else. But if he went around telling everyone in our circle that I had bad manners, my reputation would be ruined, and my backup plans would be gone. Thinking of my family’s precarious business, I couldn’t help but speak up, whispering an explanation. “I didn’t ask if someone’s parents were dead. That vendor cursed me first.” Julian paused slightly. Then he panicked. “I wasn’t badmouthing you! Miss Hale, you misunderstood!” He scratched his head, looked at Mr. Sterling, and his eyes lit up. He turned and shouted: “Dad, why aren’t you dead yet? When am I getting the inheritance?” Then he grinned at me: “I know Miss Hale meant to show concern. I often show concern for my dad like this at home too.” …What a filial son. I curved my lips slightly, not daring to make a sound. The next second. Slap! Mr. Sterling slapped Julian across the face, furious. “You unfilial brat!” Being humiliated by his own father made Julian lose face. It also seemed to slap him awake. The look he gave me suddenly became distant. Julian swallowed hard and lifted his chin. “I was talking in my sleep just now. Haven’t woken up yet. Don’t take it seriously. You’re only average-looking anyway.” Slap! Another slap landed on Julian’s face. “That’s not why I’m mad! Bastard! How did I raise such a bastard!” Mr. Sterling rolled his eyes so hard I thought they’d get stuck. The scene was chaotic. I spoke up weakly. “Maybe we should just call off the wedding.” I felt like this young master had a few screws loose. Sure enough. The sleep-talking fairy opened his mouth: “Fine, then I’ll reluctantly agree to marry you.” “…” 3 Julian had just ordered the driver to take me home. In the afternoon, he showed up at my door with bags of gifts, rushing like he was on fire. “I’m reluctantly visiting your home. You don’t mind, do you?” Looking at Julian, dressed in a black suit encrusted with rhinestones, hair styled perfectly, preening like a peacock. This is what he calls “reluctantly”? I was confused, but played along: “I don’t mind. Wear whatever you want.” Julian’s smug smile froze. He muttered something about leaving something in the car and told me to go inside first. When he came back in. My little sister dived into my arms, crying loudly that a dragon fruit monster was outside. I looked up. Julian’s black rhinestone suit had been swapped for a hot pink rhinestone suit. It was blinding. But he didn’t care, looking up arrogantly: “That one was too formal. This one feels more… reluctant.” “…” During dinner. My mom signaled me to put food in Julian’s bowl. I picked up a shrimp for him. The next second. He shoved the shrimp, shell and all, into his mouth, mumbling: “Since my fiancée served it, I’ll reluctantly eat it.” “…” He chewed up the shell and swallowed it. A moment later. He nudged my shoulder, looking shifty-eyed again. “Can you give me some more food? I feel like the food tastes better when you serve it.” 4 I didn’t understand, but I complied. I served food. He didn’t spit out shells. I poured water. He drank from the bowl. “Reluctantly doing this.” “Reluctantly doing that.” “I’ll reluctantly do this again!” After drinking an unknown number of cups of water I poured. My little sister, who had finally overcome her fear of the dragon fruit monster, slowly crept to my side. She carefully extended a pinky finger, pointing at the monster. Her round eyes widened, full of innocence. “Sister, is that a water buffalo?” The water buffalo himself froze mid-sip. Was it my imagination, or did Julian sound a bit choked up? “I’m going to the restroom.” A moment later. My sister, who had run off to play, sneakily ran back, pointing towards the bathroom. “Sister, I think the water buffalo is crying in there. Going ‘moo moo’.” “…” This marriage partner, Julian Sterling. It seems like he had a very high fever as a child. Every move he makes is baffling. After an afternoon of “reluctance,” I finally saw him off. Just as he reached the door, Julian seemed to remember something and whipped around. “Miss Hale, I forgot to introduce myself.” Does he need an introduction? The Sterlings are famous. “I am currently technically 23, virtually 24, swaying on 25, almost 26, immediately 27, soon to be 28, approaching 29, nearly 30! “I am much older than you!” What a way to calculate age. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Julian looked inexplicably nervous. Oh. I remembered. Before entering his house this morning, he seemingly said he wouldn’t marry a woman older than him. I didn’t expect him to explain it so tactfully. My face felt hot, and my heart skipped a beat. But fate didn’t seem to want to give him a chance to explain further. Maybe his vow not to marry me was too sincere. On our wedding day. While “reluctantly” on his way to pick me up. Julian actually got hit by a car.

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During the typhoon, my wife’s childhood friend called, claiming she was having miscarriage symptoms and demanding I rush to his private club. I was still groggy from an emergency appendectomy, so my father-in-law answered the phone. He grabbed the family’s heirloom medical kit and raced into the storm to save the child—but died in a horrific highway pile-up. By the time his body was brought to the hospital, it was too late. Nothing could be done. “Mike, you have to save Olivia’s baby… If she loses it… she’ll never be a mother again…” Even in his final moments, my father-in-law only thought of the child in her womb. He died with his eyes wide open, unpeaceful. Grief-stricken, I took the kit and rushed to the club—only to find Olivia and her friend Mason arm-in-arm, toasting. “Well, Liv,” Mason drawled, smirking. “Looks like your husband doesn’t love you that much. What’s your bet-losing punishment?” Olivia, flushed with wine, draped herself over him playfully. “Don’t worry,” she purred. “He’d crawl through hell for me—even if it rained knives!” Shock and rage washed over me. I stormed forward and grabbed her arm. “I thought you were miscarrying! How can you drink?” Olivia’s face turned icy. She splashed red wine in my face. “Wishing a miscarriage on me? Disgusting! Can’t you see we’re just playing a game?” She kissed Mason, then glanced back at me. “And that,” she said, “is your punishment for being late.” 1 Fury tore through my chest. “Olivia, you’re playing games with our unborn child’s life?” I choked out. “Your father was worried sick about you. He was in an accident on his way here!” I couldn’t bring myself to tell her he was dead, terrified of what the shock might do to her. Olivia snatched the medical kit from my hands, her voice sharp. “It’s Mason’s birthday. We’re celebrating. You didn’t even bring a gift, and you show up clutching my dad’s emergency kit? What are you doing, bringing your bad luck here?” she snapped. “Look at you, a complete mess. You call yourself a man?” My eyes burned, my fists clenching and unclenching at my sides. “You need to come to the hospital with me. Something’s happened to your father.” Mason, enjoying the drama, chimed in with a lazy smirk. “What’s with that look? Like you’re about to explode. You don’t like what she said? You going to hit her?” he taunted. “She’s just celebrating my birthday. You have to curse your own kid and your father-in-law over it?” The contempt in his eyes was naked. I knew he was provoking me, trying to make Olivia angry so I’d be humiliated in front of everyone. In the past, to keep the peace, I would have bowed my head and apologized like a pathetic dog. But my father-in-law’s last words were still echoing in my head. She can never be a mother again. For a woman, losing the ability to have children is a uniquely cruel fate. This wasn’t the time for me to play the clown for their amusement. I just needed to make sure Olivia and the baby were okay, and then get her to the hospital to see her father one last time. “Olivia, come with me to the hospital. To see your dad!” It was the first time I hadn’t groveled before her in public. The onlookers smirked, waiting for the show. As expected, Olivia’s red lips parted, and the venom poured out. “Stop using my dad as an excuse for everything! We were playing a game. Is that a big enough deal for you to start wishing death on him?” she sneered. “You were too pathetic to show up on time, so I lost the game and had to take the punishment. Instead of apologizing, you come here and ruin Mason’s birthday party. For a grown man, you’re incredibly petty.” The room erupted in laughter. “Look at you, you pathetic loser. You don’t deserve a woman like Olivia.” “She’s a saint for not only marrying you but agreeing to have your baby!” “If I were married to Olivia, I’d worship her. If she told me to die, I wouldn’t hesitate for a second!” “You’re just some poor kid who married up, Mike. Who gave you the nerve to piss her off today? You’re playing with fire!” I’d heard the same insults for two years. I could recite them by heart. Ignoring them, I reached for Olivia’s wrist, wanting to check her pulse. If it was steady, a dark part of me wanted to tell her, right then and there, that her father was dead. And that it was her fault. Seeing me reach for her, Mason slapped my hand away with disgust. “You really think just because she’s pregnant, she’s yours for good? Let me tell you something, she’s a modern woman, not some property you own!” Mason always knew exactly which buttons to push. Her face flushed with anger. A second later, her palm cracked across my cheek. “Get off me!” she shrieked. “You think you’re worthy of touching me?” She wiped the hand that had struck me on her dress, as if she’d just touched something filthy. Mason laughed. “Since you’re clearly not here to celebrate, how about you get the hell out? And I mean crawl.” The memory of a time she’d actually forced me to crawl out of a party flooded back, a humiliating fire that burned away the last of my sanity. My fist, clenched tight, shot out and connected with Mason’s mocking face. “You son of a bitch,” I roared. “You can play any game you want, but you don’t joke with people’s lives! You killed my father-in-law! I’ll turn your birthday into your death day!” 2 My punch was fast and vicious. Mason staggered back, blood pouring from his nose. The crowd immediately grabbed me, pulling me away as Olivia rushed to Mason’s side. “Mase, are you okay? Does it hurt?” The raw concern in her eyes was something I had never seen directed at me. She gently dabbed at the blood on his face like he was some priceless treasure, terrified of hurting him. Then she turned, grabbed a beer bottle, and slammed it into my stomach. The impact landed directly on my fresh surgical incision. Stars exploded behind my eyes, but the physical agony was nothing compared to the pain in my heart. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead, but Olivia didn’t seem to notice. “Mike, are you insane? You hit Mason? If you can’t live like this anymore, then let’s get a divorce!” To make sure I didn’t “go crazy” again, several men in the room pinned my arms behind my back, holding me like a criminal. I struggled, humiliation fueling my strength, but it was no use. Defeated, I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “Your father was killed in a car accident trying to get here to help you. He’s at the hospital right now, waiting for you to see him one last time. If you just come with me to see him, I’ll sign the divorce papers immediately.” Olivia’s eyes blazed. It was clear she didn’t believe a word. She slapped me again, once on each cheek. “Mike, I am ordering you to get on your knees and apologize to Mason!” she commanded. “If you don’t, I’ll tell my father you wished death on him!” Someone kicked the back of my knees. Already weak from the pain in my abdomen, my legs gave out and I collapsed to the floor. Laughter filled the room. “I thought you had a backbone for a second there! Look how fast he kneels!” Mason’s taunt was met with a chorus of agreement. “We were just playing a game, and you get so bent out of shape you curse your own father-in-law to death. And after Dr. Adler treated you like his own son!” “He took you in and this is how you repay him? What an ungrateful bastard!” … I felt a warm wetness spreading from my abdomen, and the room began to spin. All I could hear was “Dr. Adler, Dr. Adler,” and all I could see was his face as he died in front of me. “Olivia! If you don’t believe me, just call the hospital! Why would I lie about something like this?” When she forced me to my knees, whatever was left of my love for her died. All I wanted now was to make sure her father didn’t have to face the end alone. For a moment, she hesitated. She pulled out her phone, about to make the call, but then Mason let out a low groan. She immediately dropped her phone and rushed to his side. “Mase! What’s wrong?” Mason touched his nose, which had already stopped bleeding, and looked at her with lovesick eyes. “My nose… it’s really throbbing…” “He must have broken it. Mase, we need to go to the hospital!” Mason just pointed to his own lips with a playful, possessive smile. “I’m a big boy, I can handle a little pain. All I need is a kiss to make it better.” He shot a triumphant, challenging glance at me. “Although,” he added, “I’m afraid someone might lose his mind and try to kill me.” Olivia glared at me, then, without a shred of hesitation, she leaned in and kissed him. Mason immediately pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. From my knees on the floor, I could clearly see the thin strand of saliva that connected their lips as they parted. I felt nothing. No anger, no jealousy. Just a vast, cold emptiness. When they finally broke apart, Olivia was blushing like a bride, her eyes soft and dreamy. But the moment her gaze met mine, her expression turned to ice. “This is your punishment for being impulsive,” she said coldly. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson. Next time, I don’t know if there will be anything I can do to make it up to him for you.” 3 The room erupted in laughter again. Everyone understood her meaning. This time it was a public kiss. Next time, it would be her in his bed. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Are you really not going to the hospital to see your father one last time?” Furious, Olivia picked up her phone to call her dad, but she also aimed a kick at me. She put so much force into it that she lost her balance, and the phone flew from her hand, its screen going black as it hit the floor. Mason was quick, catching her by the waist before she could fall. “Liv, calm down. Getting angry isn’t good for you. Remember, you’re pregnant!” he soothed. “For my sake, just let him go. I don’t want my birthday to be ruined by all this negativity.” His magnanimous words only seemed to make Olivia angrier, her chest heaving. But wrapped in his arms, she slowly calmed down. “See?” she said, looking at me with contempt. “That’s the difference between you and Mason. You broke his nose, and he’s still defending you. But you throw a tantrum over a simple game!” She turned to Mason. “Mase, have security escort him out. I don’t want to see his face again.” With Olivia’s permission, Mason was more than happy to grind me into the dirt. He signaled for the guards. Her kick had torn my wound open. Blood was now steadily seeping through my shirt. “Liv, I think something’s really wrong with Mike!” one of the girls finally pointed out. I used to be tough. Now, even in the dim light of the club, my face was as white as a ghost’s. Olivia didn’t even glance at me. “Don’t worry about him. He’s faking it.” As I was dragged out and dumped into the pouring rain, the club behind me was still alive with music and laughter. The pulsing beat mixed with the drumming of the rain, sounding like a funeral dirge, mocking me for ever thinking I deserved better. I clutched my father-in-law’s medical kit, letting the storm wash over me. If I hadn’t had appendicitis, I would have been the one to answer that call. All Mason and his friends wanted was to humiliate me. He knew that when it came to Olivia, I’d lose all sense of reason, especially now that she was two months pregnant. Fate had played a cruel joke. I was still under anesthesia when my father-in-law, in his frantic love for his daughter, rushed headlong into disaster. He died trying to save my child. He died in my place. The thought that I was partly responsible for his death was a guilt that threatened to drown me. But pain couldn’t kill me. My father-in-law was waiting for me to handle his final affairs. I closed my heavy eyes and waited for the ambulance to arrive. Olivia never showed up. Not while I was recovering, not for the funeral arrangements. It was as if she had vanished from the face of the earth. A colleague at the hospital asked me, “Why wasn’t Olivia at Dr. Adler’s funeral?” I stared at a photo on my phone—her and Mason on a beach in Bali, wrapped in each other’s arms. “She had something important to do,” I said quietly. My colleague nodded sympathetically. “Of course. She just found out she was pregnant. A shock like this… it’s better for her to focus on the baby.” I let out a hollow laugh and didn’t correct him. The day I was discharged from the hospital, I had barely walked through the door of our apartment when she returned. “Mike, I’m home!” She stood by her suitcase, her eyes full of expectation. I knew what she was waiting for. Normally, the moment she got home, I’d rush to replace her heels with slippers, then sweep her up in my arms, carry her to the couch, and massage her feet. It was our ritual, one of the many habits born from years of love. But ever since Mason had returned to the country as the heir to his family’s fortune, she had pulled away. No more playful affection, no more casual touching. All those small, loving habits had become things she despised. Over the last two years, I had gone from confusion to withdrawal to this. A heart of cold, dead ash. I watched the hope in her eyes slowly fade, truly baffled by what she was thinking. Did she really believe that after forcing me to kneel, after having me beaten and thrown out like trash, after running off to Bali with her childhood sweetheart, all it would take was one sweet word to erase the humiliation and bring us back to how we were? My eyes began to sting. 4 After a few seconds of silence, Olivia walked over to me, her eyes welling with tears. I didn’t even look at her. She sighed, then climbed onto my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck. “Are you still angry about the other day? Are you not even going to comfort your favorite wife?” she whispered. “You know Mason’s friends are all rich kids. Their games are always over the top. If I didn’t play along, I’d never fit in. When you made that scene, I had to do something to smooth things over. If I hadn’t, those guys could have made one call and gotten you fired, let alone blocked your promotion to attending physician.” This was my favorite position, her in my lap. But now, all I could smell was the faint scent of a man’s cologne on her skin, and my stomach churned. I held my breath and pushed her off me. Olivia bit her lip, looking even more wounded. “Why do you always get so angry over such small things? I’m carrying our child. If you won’t even take care of me, the least you can do is not make things harder. Now I have to be the one to comfort you? You’re going to be a father, Mike. Grow up.” A game. A man’s life. I was nearly killed by a kick from her. And she thought I should just pretend nothing happened and comfort her? “You were playing a game, so why did you have to drag me into it?” I asked, my voice flat. “If you two had ended up in bed, would you have expected me to kneel beside you and serve you?” “You killed your own father trying to climb into some so-called high society. What gives you the right to ask me for comfort?” At my continued “cursing” of her father, the few tears in her eyes vanished. Her beautiful face hardened. “My father is an old man. Can’t you show a little respect?” she snapped. “I can get into that circle because Mason and I have been friends since we were kids. If there was really something going on between us, would I be having your baby?” It was the first time she had argued with me so calmly, her tone almost like a lover’s quarrel. Her good mood was probably thanks to her vacation with Mason. She opened her suitcase and pulled out a pair of expensive-looking cufflinks. “I picked these out for you on my trip. They’re for your birthday. I was supposed to be back yesterday to celebrate with you, but my flight was canceled. A day late is better than never.” How thoughtful of her to remember my birthday amidst all her fun. As for the gift, it belonged in the trash. I had seen these cufflinks before, on Mason’s social media. They were a birthday gift from someone trying to suck up to him. He didn’t like them, so he’d posted that they were free to a good home. And Olivia had brought them back for me. She couldn’t even be bothered to spend a single penny on me, yet she expected me to be grateful for her trash. When I tossed the cufflinks into the garbage can, her patience finally ran out. “Mike, don’t push your luck!” Without thinking, I shot back, “Better than you, running off on a honeymoon with Mason while your father’s body isn’t even cold in the ground!” Mason’s social media had been filled with intimate photos of them, captioned: “Honeymoon Day 1.” “Honeymoon Day 2.” … She didn’t even flinch at being caught. She just stomped her high heel down on my foot, her face contorted with rage. “Mike, I knew you were heartless, but I didn’t realize your soul was black too!” she shrieked. “Mason was right! The moment I got pregnant, you showed your true colors!” “And I actually defended you to everyone! I told them you would always love me, always treat me right! But what do you do? You curse my father to death, over and over!” “Mason was just testing you for me, with that little game! Not only were you late, but you made a huge scene! And now I lower myself to come home and comfort you, and you’re still acting like this!” “I never should have gotten pregnant with your child! You don’t deserve it!” With that, she grabbed her suitcase and slammed the door behind her. I shook my head and laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. Did she really think that after disappearing for half a month, she could come back with Mason’s garbage, spew a few condescending words, and I would just forgive her? She still had me blocked. She didn’t even know her own father had been buried for over a week. Two hours later, I received a photo from Mason. It was a medical form for an abortion procedure, signed by Olivia. Next to it was a picture of her, her face pale, but a small, triumphant smile on her lips. In that moment, a strange lightness settled over me. A heavy chain had finally snapped. The baby was gone. I could no longer fulfill my father-in-law’s dying wish. This marriage was over. 5 On my father-in-law’s birthday, I brought a bouquet of his favorite jasmine and white roses to his grave. I never expected to run into Olivia and Mason there. “Mike! Are you sick in the head?” she screamed, her eyes red with fury as she saw the name ‘Daniel Adler’ on the tombstone in front of me. “My father is alive and well! It wasn’t enough for you to curse him to death, now you’ve built him a tombstone? How can you be so vile?” She stomped on the flowers, crushing them into the dirt. “Who is this short-lived lover of yours that you dare to bury her in the plot my father bought for himself?” For a moment, I had no idea what she was talking about. Wasn’t she here to apologize to her father? She continued to shriek at my confused face. “Mike, just because I got rid of your baby, you’re going to humiliate my father like this?” “Why did you stop him from saving someone yesterday? Because of you, because you and my father refused to help, Mason’s great-aunt missed her window for emergency treatment, and now she’s dead!” “You’re the one who’s petty and forgot your duty as a doctor, so why drag my dad down with you? He must be so consumed with guilt that he’s disappeared! It serves your dead whore right!” I was completely lost. But one thing was clear. She wasn’t here to apologize or to visit her father. I pointed at the tombstone, my voice calm against her storm of rage. “Your father died two weeks ago, Olivia. You didn’t ask, you didn’t care. Now, someone feeds you a line, and you rush here to slander his name. You’re a truly filial daughter.” Mason snapped his fingers. Two large men grabbed me, holding me still. He held a phone in front of my face. On the screen, a video played. Two men in white coats, one old and one young, were rushing down a street with medical kits. They passed an elderly person collapsed on the ground. They seemed to argue, and then the young doctor pulled the older one away. A moment later, the young doctor was seen kissing a woman. The builds of the men, the medical kits… they looked exactly like me and my father-in-law. The timestamp on the video was from the previous day. Two hours after Olivia’s abortion. “If you want revenge, take it out on me! If you want a divorce, fine!” she screamed. “But my father has spent his entire life saving people! He shouldn’t be consumed with guilt over your mistake! And he most certainly shouldn’t have his final resting place occupied by some cheap slut!” “Do it!” she commanded. “Dig up that bitch’s ashes! I’m going to scatter them to the wind myself!” One of Mason’s men produced a shovel from his car. I struggled, roaring, “Olivia! That’s your father’s grave! You can’t do this!” Seeing my distress only fueled her hatred. “No wonder you don’t care about me anymore! This woman has stolen your soul, even in death!” she spat. “Since you care so much, then I’ll make sure to destroy her completely! This is the price you pay for betraying me and humiliating my father!” I snatched a shovel from one of the men and swung it wildly. “Anyone who touches that grave, I swear to god, I’ll take you down with me!” But it was five against one. They quickly overpowered me, pinning me to the ground and beating me mercilessly. The others, including Olivia, began to dig. When she finally pulled the urn from the earth, her face was twisted into a triumphant, grotesque smile. I used the last of my strength to plead with her. “Olivia, don’t! Those are your father’s ashes!” But she wasn’t listening. I watched, my eyes burning, a taste of blood rising in my throat, as she opened the urn and threw my father-in-law’s ashes into the wind. “See that, Mike?” she shrieked. “That’s what happens when someone tries to steal my father’s grave!” As she raised the empty urn to smash it on the ground, a furious voice boomed from behind us. “Olivia! What are you doing?” “What have you done to your father’s grave?!”

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1 I was reincarnated as the tragic heroine of a romance novel, and my overbearing CEO boyfriend had a “dear sister” who was perpetually hospitalized. In the middle of the night, his phone rang again. He threw on his clothes in a hurry. “Clara’s not feeling well. I have to go see her.” According to the script, I was supposed to cry and beg him not to leave. Instead, I just watched his retreating back and felt a yawn coming on. The moment he was out the door, I called his arch-nemesis—the one with the chiseled eight-pack—and invited him over. The next morning, I timed it perfectly for when I knew he’d be at Clara’s bedside and video-called him. Seeing his face darken instantly, I drawled, “What’s wrong? You went to take care of your sister, didn’t you? The house felt so empty, I just found someone to keep me company. Is that so strange?” “And don’t get the wrong idea. It’s a purely platonic friendship. I’m very tired, Adrian. Could you please not be so unreasonable?” Before he could explode, I hung up. After all, if you can have a little sister, why can’t I have a big brother? … The moment the call ended, a dead silence fell over the living room. Larry Ryder raised an eyebrow, leisurely tying the belt of his bathrobe, concealing the sculpted planes of his abdomen. He let out a low chuckle, his voice laced with the undisguised glee of a spectator. “My guess? Mr. Vance will be back in ten minutes, tops.” I leaned back languidly against the sofa and took a sip of red wine. “I’ll bet five.” The words had barely left my lips when the front door slammed open with a deafening bang, as if it had been kicked in. Adrian was back. His eyes were bloodshot, his chest heaving with rage. His gaze first sliced across the perfectly composed Larry, then landed on me, his voice squeezed through gritted teeth. “Seraphina, you’d better give me an explanation!” I swirled the liquid in my glass, feigning ignorance of his volcanic fury. “An explanation for what?” I lifted my eyes, my expression a mask of innocence. “I just had a friend over to hang out. What’s wrong with that?” “A friend?” Adrian scoffed as if I’d told the world’s most hilarious joke. He stalked forward and seized my wrist. “A friend who keeps you company in a bathrobe?! Seraphina, have you no shame?!” The disappointment and fury in his eyes threatened to swallow me whole. If I were the original Seraphina, my heart would be shattering right now. I’d be crying, pleading, trying to explain. But I’m not her. I calmly pulled my hand from his grip, rubbing the red marks on my wrist. My tone was light, dismissive. “Adrian, don’t be so unreasonable. We just watched a movie together. He just got out of the shower. Your constant suspicion is exhausting.” Every single word was a line he had used to placate the original Seraphina countless times. Adrian choked, his face a mottled canvas of white and red. He looked as if he couldn’t believe those words were coming from my mouth. Beside me, Larry let out a perfectly timed sigh and shrugged helplessly. “Adrian, please don’t mind me. Sera and I have always been like this. She’s never really seen me as a man. But since you seem to hate me so much, I’ll just go.” His performance—a masterclass in passive-aggressive manipulation—was impeccable. I immediately grabbed Larry’s arm as he pretended to leave, turning a reproachful gaze on Adrian. “Why are you being so hostile to him? Adrian, when did you become so petty?” “Petty?” Adrian was shaking with rage. “He’s a man, in our house, in the middle of the night! And you’re defending him!” “And Clara?” I finally revealed my endgame, a sweet smile playing on my lips. “Isn’t she a woman? She calls you in the middle of the night, and you go running without a second thought. Why don’t you ever mention the impropriety of a man and a woman being alone in a room together?” I took a step forward, looking directly into his furious eyes, pinning him in place with my words. “If you can have Clara as a sister, why can’t I have Larry as a brother? You can’t have it both ways, Adrian.” Adrian’s lips moved, but no sound came out. Trapped by his own twisted logic, he was rendered speechless. Finally, he just turned and slammed the door behind him. Silence returned to the living room. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding and turned to Larry. “Thank you. Sorry you had to be part of the show tonight.” Larry’s playful demeanor vanished. He poured himself a drink and looked at me, his expression complex. “Seraphina, do you remember the university debate tournament? You were my opponent, and you argued me into a corner.” I paused. He gave a self-deprecating smile. “Even back then, I thought you belonged in the sunlight—confident and proud. Not trapped in this golden cage, letting your light be extinguished for a man.” He set down his glass and looked at me, his gaze serious. “It’s Adrian’s loss that he doesn’t cherish you. I’m not helping you for the drama. I just think you deserve better than this.” I looked into his sincere eyes, and the deep-seated resentment of the original soul within me felt a flicker of solace. He was right. I didn’t deserve this. And that poor woman deserved a much better ending. I touched my chest, my resolve hardening. Just wait. This was only the beginning. It was time for the villains of the story to suffer, just as the heroine had. Doubly so. Adrian didn’t come home the next day. I was more than happy for the peace and quiet. I even had a good night’s sleep for the first time in ages. It wasn’t until evening that the villa’s front door opened again. Adrian walked in, supporting a frail figure. It was the woman I had seen in countless photographs: Clara Lane. She wore a plain white dress, her face pale. She looked like a delicate white lotus, swaying in the slightest breeze. Adrian avoided my probing gaze and set her suitcase on the floor. “The doctor said Clara is still very weak and needs to rest,” he announced. “She’ll be staying here from now on, so I can take better care of her.” He paused, then added, “Just make an extra portion at mealtimes. It’s not much trouble.” Clara chose that moment to offer a weak, fragile smile. A triumphant glint flashed in her eyes as she looped her arm through Adrian’s. “Adrian-brother insisted,” she cooed. “He was just so worried about me being alone. I hope his wife won’t mind.” She drew out the word “wife,” her tone dripping with unconcealed provocation. Just as I was about to speak, a sharp pain lanced through my chest. It was the primal scream of the original Seraphina’s shattered soul. She was urging me, screaming at me to demand why Adrian would bring this woman into her home, to throw her out immediately. The intensity of the emotion nearly overwhelmed me. I took a deep breath, pressing a hand to my chest to soothe the turmoil within. I suppressed the wave of resentment and stretched my lips into a brilliant smile. “Mind? Of course not! Why would I mind? Welcome, little sister Clara.” My enthusiasm stunned both Adrian and Clara into silence. Pretending not to notice their shock, I continued warmly, “Adrian’s right. You need to be looked after. And it’ll be nice to have someone else around. It gets so lonely here by myself.” My tone shifted, and I clapped my hands together as if struck by a sudden, wonderful idea. “What a coincidence! I was just about to tell you, the house is about to get even livelier!” Adrian’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?” I gestured toward the door. “My dear brother Larry is having his company and his home renovated at the same time. It’s a dusty mess, and I was worried about his health. I couldn’t bear the thought of him living all alone in a hotel, so I’ve invited him to stay with us for a while.” As if on cue, the doorbell rang. I pressed the remote, and the door swung open to reveal Larry, casually pulling a silver suitcase behind him. Dressed in stylish casual wear, he took in the scene in the living room and raised an eyebrow in feigned surprise. “Well, look at this. A full house.” He winked at me, then turned his gaze to Adrian, whose face had darkened like a thundercloud. “Adrian, I hope you won’t mind my intrusion for the next little while.” The air in the living room seemed to freeze. Clara’s smile was plastered to her face, and Adrian looked like he’d just swallowed a lemon. Oh, this was going to be fun. The war began the very next morning, in the kitchen. Clara was up at the crack of dawn, a pink apron tied around her waist, presenting Adrian with a bowl of painstakingly prepared congee. “Adrian-brother, try this. I simmered it all night,” she said, her voice a soft murmur. “I just hope your wife likes it. She seems to be a late riser.” I ignored the barb in her words and walked straight to the stove, taking four eggs from the refrigerator. Adrian frowned, his tone laced with command. “Clara made you breakfast. Sit down and eat.” I paid him no mind, turning on the heat and adding oil to a pan. With a sizzle, the fragrant aroma of frying filled the air, a stark contrast to her bland, watery porridge. I expertly cracked four eggs into the pan, frying them to a perfect, sunny-side-up finish. I plated two for myself and two on a separate plate. A vein throbbed in Adrian’s temple. “Seraphina,” he said through clenched teeth, “do you have to be like this?” “Like what?” I pierced a yolk with my fork, watching the golden river flow out. I took a slow, deliberate bite before looking up at him with an innocent smile. “You have your sister’s breakfast of love, and I have my high-protein meal. Oh, and by the way,” I gestured to the other plate, “these are for my brother Larry. He’s taking me for a heavy weightlifting session later, and we’ll need the energy.” With that, I picked up both plates and, ignoring their stunned faces, walked into the villa’s home gym. Larry was already there, finishing his warm-up. A fine sheen of sweat coated his bronze skin, the air thick with the scent of raw masculinity. “Your energy supply,” I said, handing him the plate. He took it and started eating without ceremony. An hour later, Adrian appeared at the gym door, his face a thunderous mask. He had probably come to confront me, but the sight before him froze him in place. I was struggling through my last set of weighted squats, my energy nearly spent. Larry was standing directly behind me, his shirt off, sweat trickling down his defined abs. His hands were placed firmly on my waist, his hot palms pressing against the thin, sweat-dampened fabric of my workout top. “I can’t… I can’t get up…” I panted. “Don’t give up,” Larry’s voice was a low, magnetic hum right next to my ear. “Feel the power in your glutes. That’s it… I’ve got you. Don’t be afraid.” His chest was almost completely flush against my back, moving with me, the position intimate and seamless. From Adrian’s angle, it looked as if he was holding me in a full embrace. CRACK! Adrian couldn’t take it anymore. He slammed his fist into the doorframe. Larry and I both turned. My face was flushed from the workout, while Larry slowly straightened up, wiped the sweat from his chest with a towel, and gave Adrian a provocative look. “Trouble sleeping, Adrian?” Adrian’s eyes were murderous. He stared at the damp imprints of Larry’s hands on my waist, his Adam’s apple bobbing, but he was speechless. What could he say? That it was improper for a man and woman to be so close? His dear sister was sitting in the dining room. That our position was indecent? He had personally massaged Clara’s sprained ankle just last night. Watching his face contort with a rage he was forced to swallow, I felt a sliver of the original soul’s resentment begin to dissipate. Still breathing heavily, I flashed Larry a grateful, sweet smile. “Thank you, Larry-brother. Having you here gives me so much strength.” Adrian’s fists clenched so tightly I could hear the knuckles crack. Late that night, I had just stepped out of the shower when my bedroom door was thrown open. Adrian stood there, reeking of alcohol, his eyes bloodshot. He stalked toward me, his scent and the smell of liquor engulfing me. Before I could react, he had me pinned against the wall behind the door. “Seraphina,” his voice was hoarse, edged with fury, “what the hell do you want?” He didn’t wait for an answer. His scorching lips crashed down on mine. The kiss was an invasion, a punishment. It was less a kiss and more a beast’s bite. I wrinkled my nose in disgust and, when he tried to deepen it, I wrenched my head to the side. He froze, his chest heaving as he fought for control. After a long moment, he buried his face in my neck, his voice suddenly laced with a raw, wounded tone. “Do we have to be like this? You were never like this before.” I almost laughed out loud. When the original Seraphina had poured her heart out for him, he had ignored her. Now that I was giving him a taste of his own medicine, he was the one feeling wronged? I placed a hand on his chest, feeling the frantic drumming of his heart through his shirt. “Are you jealous?” I whispered. His body went rigid. He snapped his head up, his eyes boring into mine in the dim light. His lips parted, but no words came out. Finally, as if I had struck a nerve, he let me go and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. The next day, I was at the city’s most exclusive luxury boutique, picking out a tie clip for Larry as a thank you for his stellar performance. When I went to pay, the cashier handed my black card back to me apologetically. “I’m sorry, ma’am. This card has been frozen.” Before I could say anything, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Adrian, dripping with condescension: When you figure out how to be a proper wife, you can come and talk to me. Until then, all of your cards have been suspended. He thought he had me. He thought, just like the original Seraphina, I would panic, lose my mind, and come crawling back to him, begging for scraps. I glanced at the text and a contemptuous smile touched my lips. I pulled out a second phone and made a call. “Mr. Davies? It’s Seraphina Lockhart. The trust fund my mother left me… I’m activating it. Now.” At three o’clock that afternoon, I stood on a stage, bathed in the blinding light of flashbulbs. Dressed in a sharp, white power suit, I stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Larry Ryder, unveiled as his most important new business partner. I smiled brightly for the cameras. I knew Adrian would see it. After the successful press conference, Larry handed me a glass of champagne. “Congratulations, Seraphina. A brilliant counterattack.” Just as I was about to toast him, the phone in my purse began to vibrate violently. I pulled it out. The screen was filled with missed call notifications. More than twenty of them. All from Adrian. I ignored it and was about to turn the phone off when it lit up again. This time, it was the private line from the Vance family estate. I answered. There was a second of silence, then a stern, aged voice boomed through the speaker. “Seraphina, have you had your fun yet?!” The Chairman’s voice was as imperious as ever, as if I were still the meek little thing the Vance family could control. “My fun?” I scoffed. “Mr. Chairman, is your memory failing you? Your son brought his ‘dear sister’ into my home and cut off my finances, and you have the nerve to say that I’m the one causing trouble?” He was clearly taken aback by my sharp retort. “You…” “Me what?” I cut him off. “Go manage your incompetent son. As for me, from this day forward, I’ll do whatever makes me happy.” I hung up just before his thunderous roar could erupt from the speaker. For the next few days, an eerie calm settled over the villa. Adrian, surprisingly, didn’t go running to Clara. Instead, he seemed to be trying to mend things with me. He knew the annual Starlight Gala was approaching. It was the biggest event of the year for the city’s elite, and the Vance family could not afford to lose face. On the night of the gala, I slipped into a flame-red mermaid gown I had prepared long ago. Adrian stood behind me, fastening a diamond necklace around my neck. His reflection in the mirror was a storm of complex emotions. “After tonight, let’s talk,” he said, his arms wrapping around me from behind, his voice almost a plea. “Send Larry and Clara away. We can…” He never got to finish his sentence.

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In my past life, my parents died in a car crash. My twin sister and I were left behind. She was adopted by the richest man in the city, while I was taken in by a flashy, nouveau riche couple. The billionaire’s only son was a psychopath. My sister became his plaything—tortured, disfigured, and eventually paralyzed from the waist down. Meanwhile, the nouveau riche couple groomed me carefully. I entered the entertainment industry and became a rising star. Consumed by jealousy, my sister set a fire and burned me alive. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of our adoption. This time, my sister threw herself at the feet of the nouveau riche couple, calling them Mom and Dad. She didn’t know. The billionaire’s son might be cruel, but he was just a fifteen-year-old boy with issues. The nouveau riche couple? They clawed their way up from the gutter. Their methods were far more sinister. How could a pig-brained girl like her survive them? In the end, she walked a path of self-destruction. As for me? I tamed the psycho brother. He pinned me against the wall, whispering, “Sister, you’ve been dishonest. Big brother has to punish you.” 1 “Auntie, Uncle, I want to be your daughter! I’ll be so good, I promise!” My twin sister, Chloe, ran up to the flashy couple, her voice sweet and pleading. The couple hesitated, whispering to each other. “They’re both ten, look the same. Which one should we pick?” Hearing this, Chloe sold herself even harder. “Pick me! Please! I’ll work hard to repay you for raising me!” Seeing her desperation, I knew. She had been reborn too. In our last life, the couple couldn’t decide between us. Then, the billionaire Mr. Sterling arrived with his son, Julian. Hearing “billionaire” and seeing the handsome boy, Chloe chose them first. I was left with the flashy couple, the Millers. But fifteen-year-old Julian was a monster. Mr. Sterling was always away on business, leaving Chloe at Julian’s mercy. He tortured her until she was unrecognizable and wheelchair-bound. 2 I, on the other hand, was carefully cultivated by the Millers. I became talented, beautiful, and poised. They spent a fortune paving my way into Hollywood. Within two years, I was a star. But behind the glamour lay a darkness I dared not remember. The Millers scrutinized me. My heart skipped a beat. I quickly pulled out a photo of our late parents and started crying. “Boohoo, Mom, Dad, I miss you so much… No one can ever replace you…” The Millers’ faces soured. The woman pointed at Chloe and whispered, “This one seems loyal. That one’s a lost cause. Let’s take her.” Chloe dropped to her knees, ecstatic. “Mom! Dad! I’ll listen to whatever you say!” Just then, the orphanage director arrived with Mr. Sterling. Seeing me crying over my parents’ photo, Mr. Sterling looked touched. He thought I was a girl who valued family. He decided to adopt me on the spot. Chloe sneered at me, whispering, “Sis, I’m so jealous. You got a billionaire dad and such a handsome brother!” Then she turned to Julian. “Big brother, she’s your family now. Take good care of her.” She emphasized “good” with malice. Julian ignored her, looking at me with amusement. Chloe gave me one last look—like she was looking at a dead person—took the Millers’ hands, and left without looking back. I watched them go and sighed in relief. Sister, congratulations on taking my place in hell. In our past life, while Chloe was being broken by Julian, I became a household name thanks to the Millers. I starred in a blockbuster movie and won Best Actress. To the outside world, I was in heaven, and she was in hell. Chloe thought so too. She blamed me for her misery. When she set the fire that killed me, she didn’t know I had wanted to die for a long time. 3 She didn’t know that the heaven she was rushing toward was the real hell. Thinking of this, I looked at Julian sitting beside me. Compared to the nightmares of my past life, he looked like an angel. After all, what psycho brother doesn’t love his little sister? Chloe failed because she was stupid. In the car, Julian noticed me staring. He said coldly, “Seen enough?” His expression was terrifying for a fifteen-year-old. Dark and heavy. My heart jumped. Time to start the conquest. “Big brother, I’ve never seen a boy as good-looking as you. Are you really going to be my brother?” I smiled sweetly, eyes full of admiration and longing. Julian turned to look at me. A hint of mockery flashed in his cold eyes. “You really want to be my sister?” … Duh! I’m ten years old and your dad just adopted me. Do I have a choice? “Yes! I’m so happy to have a brother to love me!” I feigned joy, then quickly turned anxious, lowering my head and twisting the hem of my ragged shirt. “But… you probably don’t like me either. At the orphanage, no one liked me. Everyone hated me…” Julian paused, speaking stiffly. “I don’t hate you.” I stopped sniffing and threw my arms around his waist. “Yay! Brother doesn’t hate me! Brother likes me!” Julian stiffened instantly. He shoved me away, his gaze turning dark again. “Get off. Don’t touch me without my permission.” … Classic psycho behavior. Moody. Mr. Sterling laughed from the front seat, telling Julian to get along with me. I knew this house would essentially be just me and Julian. Mr. Sterling was always flying around the world. Julian was the only constant. As long as I handled this psycho, I’d be safe. At the villa, the butler arranged for my room to be right next to Julian’s. 4 From then on, I began my campaign to tame my psycho brother. On the first day of school, I clung to his arm and cried, “Brother, don’t leave me! I’m scared, waah…” Julian looked at me, snot and tears running down my face like an abandoned puppy. He couldn’t bring himself to shake me off. I became his biggest fan. “My brother” was always on my lips, said with pride. When I was sick, I refused medicine unless Julian coaxed me. I pestered him to help with homework, demanding hugs as rewards when I got it right. I was his shadow, sticking to him everywhere. Three years passed. Julian grew used to my dependence. He stopped flinching at my touch. Even the butler remarked, “I’ve never seen the Young Master care for anyone like this. Miss, you are lucky.” Hearing that, I knew I had him. That night, during a thunderstorm, I crept into Julian’s bed. He came out of the shower and saw me, his face darkening immediately. “Brother, I’m scared! I had a nightmare. Can I sleep with you?” Before he could explode, I started crying. Julian’s face was a mix of anger, murderous intent, and deep helplessness. I thought, Oops, did I push too far? So I climbed off the bed, sobbing, “I’m sorry, brother. When I was little, Mommy always held me during storms. I just miss Mom…” A flicker of softness passed through Julian’s eyes. He muttered a curse. Just as I hugged my pillow to leave, he yanked me back. “Sleep on the edge. And stay still. Hear me?” I was shocked. It worked? That night, I slept in the same bed as Julian. Feeling him gently patting my back, a strange emotion welled up in me. I knew him from my past life. He wasn’t always a monster to Chloe. His mother died young, and his father was absent. He craved love. But Chloe, once she became the heiress, was vain and hung out with the wrong crowd. She saw Julian as a rival for the inheritance.

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After a massive landslide, our college trekking club was trapped in a cave for seven days. I finally cracked the code on a survival cache we found that contained a satellite phone. Everyone cheered. Chase, our trip leader and my boyfriend, immediately snatched the case and handed it to Tiffany, the group’s resident “It Girl” and self-proclaimed heiress. “This is a great photo op. Let’s let Tiff do the honors. She needs the clout for her influencer profile.” Tiffany, looking flustered, punched in the wrong code. Twice. The system locked out after three tries. In my past life, seeing that there was only one attempt left, I snatched the box back and punched in the correct sequence to save us. After we were rescued, instead of thanking me, the whole group accused me of stealing Tiffany’s thunder. They claimed she had solved it and I just jumped in at the last second. Later, Tiffany stole my credit card information to buy everyone expensive gifts and threw a party at my family’s villa, claiming it was hers. When I confronted her with the bank statements, she cried, “Harper is just jealous because my family has money and hers doesn’t.” Chase sneered at me, “You think anyone cares about your pennies? Stop trying to make yourself look important.” During the argument, they shoved me into the river. The whole group watched coldly as I drowned. When I opened my eyes, I was back in the cave. Back to the moment Tiffany was punching in the code. This time, I stood back and watched her fail. Chapter 1 “Tiff, babe, the code is cracked. Go ahead and input it!” Chase stood beaming as I finished scratching the mathematical sequence into the dirt floor with a twig. I had solved the riddle locking the survival case we found in the debris. The moment the solution clicked, I looked up at Chase, a smile forming. But before I could speak, he grabbed the case, completely ignoring my two days of mental gymnastics, and shoved it into Tiffany’s hands. Tiffany smirked at me, raising a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Chase, Harper found this case. She solved the math. If I take the credit, won’t she be mad?” Her tone dripped with fake apology, but her eyes were mocking me. Chase scoffed. “Her? She wouldn’t dare get mad. She’d be happy to hand over her entire food stash if I asked her to.” Hearing that, Tiffany smiled, satisfied. My heart turned cold. I didn’t argue. I just watched silently as Tiffany’s manicured fingers clumsily punched in the wrong numbers. Twice. The group started getting restless. “Come on, Tiff!” She was shaking. In my last life, panic set in. I knew if the case locked, we were doomed. So I grabbed it, saved everyone, and got branded a glory-hog. Not this time. Beep. Beep. The red light flashed. Tiffany, living up to expectations, entered the wrong code for the third time. Click. The mechanism seized. The case was permanently locked. The satellite phone was bricked. The cave erupted. “Tiffany! Are you blind? Two and nine aren’t even close to each other!” “Are you kidding me? We’ve been stuck here for a week! That was our ticket out!” “Nobody asked you to solve it! You just had to type four digits! Did you do that on purpose?” Tiffany dropped the case like it was hot coal and looked at Chase with tear-filled eyes. “Chase… I didn’t mean to. It’s just… Harper took so long to solve it, and I’m so hungry and dizzy… and it’s dark…” Then, she turned her watery gaze on me. “Maybe Harper’s math was wrong! Maybe she gave me the wrong code!” Chapter 2 Hilarious. I spent forty-eight hours verifying that sequence. Now that she screwed up, she wants to pin it on me? In her dreams. Without me, they wouldn’t have even found the box. “I solved the puzzle. I didn’t tell you to type it in,” I said, my voice flat. “And considering you typed three different combinations, none of which matched my solution, how exactly is my math the problem?” I let out a cold laugh. I wasn’t playing the doormat anymore. Tiffany’s face went pale. Being called out wasn’t part of her script. Chase frowned, but the rest of the classmates were fuming. “Well, if Harper wasn’t so slow, Tiff wouldn’t have been so stressed!” “Yeah, blame Harper. She’s so desperate for attention.” “Exactly. Tiffany is top of the class. Harper is just a try-hard.” It was absurd. Tiffany’s “top of the class” status was entirely because Chase, using his position as a T.A., doctored her grades. When the real work started, Tiffany conveniently “fainted.” “I’m sorry, everyone,” Tiffany sobbed, bowing to the group. “It’s my fault. Don’t blame Harper. She didn’t mean to be difficult.” Chase immediately pulled her up, glaring at me. “Babe, this isn’t on you. It’s Harper’s fault.” Seeing him defend her, the group directed their rage at me. Chase comforted Tiffany, whispering sweet nothings while casting me as the villain. I walked to a corner and sat down, clutching my necklace. Inside the pendant was a GPS tracker my brother had custom-made for me. I was kidnapped once as a kid, so my family was paranoid. Before this trip, I told my brother: If I’m not back in seven days, come find me. Suddenly, a hand yanked me up. It was Chase. He looked furious. “Harper, give your food to Tiffany. She’s looking pale.” He said it like it was an order. Before the trip, I told everyone to pack emergency rations and water. Tiffany mocked me. “We’re going glamping, Harper. I’m not carrying a heavy bag. We can catch rabbits or something.” Her bag was full of makeup and ring lights. Chase had packed snacks, but he’d given them all to her days ago. I slapped his hand away. “She needs to eat? What about me? Do I photosynthesize?” “I’m your girlfriend, Chase. Yet you prioritize her every single time. Do you think that’s normal?” Chase froze. I had never talked back to him before. I used to be the “cool girl,” the one who accommodated everything. He gritted his teeth, poking my forehead. “Why are you so selfish? People are starving, and you’re hoarding? If anything happens to Tiff, are you taking responsibility?” Me? Responsible? “Chase,” I said calmly. “Let’s break up.” Chapter 3 Chase looked at me with pure disdain. “Break up? You’re using that to threaten me?” “Fine. Hand over the food in your bag, and I’ll agree to the breakup.” I almost laughed. I was worthless to him. “I carried this food up the mountain. Why should I give it to you?” Chase felt entitled to my labor. Just like in school, when I did the group projects and he put Tiffany’s name on the credits. “You wanted to break up, right? Consider the food your breakup fee. You’re getting off easy.” Even though I hated him now, hearing him say that still stung. “No,” I said. “Get away from me.” “Chase!” Tiffany wailed from the ground. “I think I’m gonna faint…” Chase lunged, ripped my backpack off my shoulders, and dumped the contents. He grabbed the last few energy bars and threw them to Tiffany. She caught them with surprising agility for someone about to faint. She shot me a smug look. I grabbed my empty bag off the dirt. Tiffany tore open a wrapper and bit down. Immediately, she spat it out. “Ew! This tastes like cardboard! Even a dog wouldn’t eat this.” These were high-calorie survival rations. Not gourmet cookies. Chase patted her back, glaring at me. “Harper, did you do this on purpose? Bringing trash food to poison her?” I snapped. I walked over, grabbed the half-chewed bar from the dirt, and shoved it toward Tiffany’s face. “Did I force you to eat it? You stole it!” Tiffany gagged, rinsing her mouth with the last of Chase’s water. “Harper, you’re a psycho!” Chase yelled, raising his hand to slap me. I dodged effortlessly. They cursed at me for ten minutes. I tuned them out. Suddenly, a beam of sunlight pierced the darkness. The storm outside had cleared. Chase grabbed Tiffany’s hand. “Tiff, look! Light! Let’s go find a way out. I have the map!” He dug into his bag and pulled out… confetti. Tiffany bit her lip, looking up at him with puppy eyes. “Chase… I’m sorry. I tore it up to make confetti for the summit photo… I thought it would be romantic.” Chase sighed, his anger melting instantly. “It’s okay. We’re smart. We can find the way.” As they headed for the opening, I spoke up. “The soil is unstable. There could be a secondary landslide or flash flood. It’s safer to stay put.” Chapter 4 Chase stopped and turned around. “Harper, you love hiking, right? You go scout the path.” I wasn’t going to be their cannon fodder. “No. If you want to go, go yourself.” Chase sneered. “I knew you were a coward. You don’t have half the courage Tiffany has.” They rolled their eyes at me and left. I shouted after them, “Seriously, watch out for the mud!” They ignored me. Twenty minutes later, a drone buzzed into the cave. I saw the logo on the side. I smiled. It was my brother’s tech company. The group waved frantically at the drone. It ignored them, hovered in front of me, nodded its camera, and zipped away. “We’re saved!” “I knew Chase and Tiffany would find help!” “Yeah, Harper almost ruined it by telling them to stay.” Suddenly, the sky darkened. Rain poured down in sheets. A while later, two mud-covered figures stumbled back into the cave. They were limping, bleeding from gashes on their legs. “Does anyone have antibiotics?” Chase screamed. “We fell! It’s deep!” I touched the pocket of my jacket. I had a first-aid kit with a single dose of broad-spectrum antibiotics and a tetanus shot. When I told them to pack first-aid kits, they laughed at me for being paranoid. The classmates shook their heads. Chase limped over to me. “Harper. You hoard everything. You must have medicine. Give it to me, and I might consider taking you back.” I laughed. “I only have one dose. Who gets it?” Tiffany lunged, snatching the kit from my hand. She injected herself immediately. “Chase, you know I have a weak constitution! You’re strong, you can handle it!” Chase stared at her, betrayed. He tried to grab the empty syringe. I watched them turn on each other. So much for true love. An hour later, the rain stopped. The sound of rotors filled the air. A sleek, private helicopter landed on the flat rock outside the cave. Chapter 5 A tall man in a tactical jacket stepped out. “Oh my god! That’s Asher Xu! The pop star!” “It’s Tiffany’s brother! I knew she was legit!” “Tiffany, you saved us! Your brother came personally!” The classmates were practically kneeling before Tiffany. Tiffany stood there, frozen. Chase, seeing a luxury chopper, forgot his pain. He rushed forward to shake Asher’s hand with his muddy paws. Asher recoiled, his face showing visible disgust. “Asher, bro! I’m Tiffany’s best friend. I’m the leader here. Take us back first, yeah?” Asher looked confused. I hadn’t told anyone at school that Asher was my brother. I wanted a normal life. The classmates pushed Tiffany forward. “Go on, Tiff! It’s your brother!” Tiffany lowered her head, voice trembling. “Brother… you came for me? I know you’re busy…” Asher’s expression went from confused to icy. I couldn’t help but chuckle. Asher spotted me in the back. He pushed through the crowd and pulled me into a hug. The group gasped. A few months ago, Asher posted a photo of us hiking with the caption: Hiking with Sis. Tiffany posted a photo of the same mountain with the caption: Hiking with Brother <3. Everyone assumed she was the sister. She never corrected them. "Asher... don't you recognize your own sister?" someone asked. "Is Harper paying you to act like this?" "I'm unfollowing you. Abandoning your sister for a peasant?" Chase stepped up. "Harper is my girlfriend. If she gets on, I get on. I need to supervise her." Asher looked at the crowd like they were bugs. "You people are delusional. I don't know who 'Tiffany' is." "Harper is my biological sister. I'm here for her." "As for the rest of you... Search and Rescue is an hour out. Wait here." He pulled me onto the chopper. We lifted off, leaving them in the mud.

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I was just about to confess my feelings to my online crush in person when floating text suddenly appeared in front of my eyes. It looked like a live stream chat. [This side chick needs to give it a rest. The Male Lead is avoiding her like the plague. He’s mortified he spent all that time chatting with the wrong girl.] [It’s totally the side chick’s fault for using a profile pic that looks just like the Female Lead’s. No wonder Xavier got confused.] [Ugh, thinking about how the Male Lead poured his heart out to her after losing that game makes me sick. All those deep convos were meant for our girl, not this extra.] [Tell me about it. Xavier is disgusted, and our baby girl, the Female Lead, is bummed out too. She just added him yesterday!] [This side chick is toxic.] I stood there, frozen, staring at the floating words, when Xavier walked right into my line of sight. He’d just finished a basketball game. When he saw me, his eyes darted away. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. I sidestepped him and shoved my love letter into his roommate’s hands instead. Online crush? Please. I have, like, five of them. Those “goodnight” voice memos? I send those out on a mass broadcast list. 1 Seeing the floating comments really threw me for a loop. Standing outside the basketball court, watching the text scroll by, I started to piece things together. According to these comments, I’m just a cannon fodder side character in some cheesy college romance novel. And my online crush, Xavier, is the Male Lead. I looked down at the pink envelope in my hand and it clicked. No wonder his replies had been slow and dry lately. He sounded annoyed in every text. Turns out, he thought I was the Female Lead, Lily, this whole time. That’s why he added me, why he flirted with me, why he caught feelings over our “good morning” and “goodnight” texts. Now that he knows the truth, he’s avoiding me like I have a contagious disease. He probably thinks I’m the villain blocking his true love. A cheer erupted from the court. I looked up. Xavier was walking toward me. He was wearing a blue jersey, white headband, looking like every college girl’s dream. He took a water bottle from a teammate and took a swig, sweat glistening. He was the Main Character, alright. He literally sparkled. He looked up, saw me, and froze. Then he stiffly looked away and started talking to his teammate, pretending I didn’t exist. I sighed. The comments were right. [If I were the side chick, I’d run away. Why embarrass yourself?] [Exactly. The Male Lead and Female Lead are destined. Why is she trying to butt in? So desperate.] [Look, he won’t even look at her.] Xavier really wasn’t looking at me. He was glued to his phone, smiling at a text. Probably from the “real” Female Lead, Lily. As he was about to walk past me, I reached out and lightly grabbed his wrist. He looked shocked. I smiled. “You’re Xavier, right?” The comments went wild. Everyone was roasting me. I ignored them and stared straight at him. “Is Kai your roommate?” “Do you know where he is?” Xavier blinked. “Why are you looking for Kai?” I waved the letter in my hand. “I have something for him.” 2 Xavier didn’t speak, but his nosy teammate leaned in. “Kai? You’re looking for Kai? He’s at the tennis courts next door.” “Thanks,” I said, letting go of Xavier’s wrist. I turned and marched toward the tennis courts, letter in hand. Behind me, the whispers started. They weren’t exactly whispering. I could hear every word. “Holy crap, she likes Kai? That dude is creepy.” “Yeah, Kai gives off serial killer vibes. Why would a girl like him?” “He’s pretty, though. Different from Xavier. Kai is beautiful. Some girls are into that dark, mysterious look.” “Hey, Xavier, why are you so quiet?” “Xavier? Where are you going? Aren’t we getting food?” Rapid footsteps approached from behind. Xavier blocked my path. “Xavier? Something else?” I asked. He frowned at me, then at the letter. He seemed to realize what he was doing and awkwardly scratched his head. “It’s just… my roommate has a weird temper. You don’t know him. If you just walk up to him, he might get mad. How about I give it to him for you?” The comments exploded. [What is this? Is the side chick playing hard to get?] [Scared me for a second. I thought the Male Lead actually liked this plain girl. Turns out he’s just being nice.] [To be fair, when Xavier lost that game, her comfort really helped him. I’d have caught feelings too if I were him.] I paused, reading the text. They were talking about a basketball game last fall. It was important to Xavier, but he choked in the final quarter. They lost. His teammates tried to comfort him, but he could feel their disappointment. He hid away from everyone. I sent him tons of messages, but he ignored them all. Finally, I recorded a voice memo of me singing a song, deliberately off-key. He finally replied: “Stop singing. You’re killing me.” His voice was tired but held a hint of a smile. I stayed up all night texting him until he felt better. [She stole the Female Lead’s plotline! Xavier can’t like her. He’s Lily-sexual only.] [Exactly. He fell for Lily at first sight. He only added the side chick by mistake.] Right. That makes sense. I shook my head at Xavier. “No thanks. I know Kai pretty well.” Xavier froze. “How?” I leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, “Actually, I’ve known him online for three years. We just haven’t met in person.” I acted shy. “We’re graduating soon, so I thought I’d confess offline. Give myself a shot.” [What? Did the side chick mistake Kai for someone too?] [Good. Let her chase the creepy villain. Stay away from our Xavier.] [But Xavier looks kinda upset…] Xavier stood there, frowning, looking like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. I looked past him and smiled. “There he is! Xavier, talk later!” “Wait! Could you be mistaken?” Xavier blurted out. I stopped. “Mistaken about what?” He gritted his teeth. “You said you haven’t met. How are you sure that’s the guy you’ve been talking to?” I laughed. “If it’s not him, could it be you?” Xavier denied it instantly. “Not me.” I stared at him for a second. He couldn’t even meet my eyes. “So, Xavier, don’t worry about it,” I said, dodging past him and running toward the crowd leaving the tennis courts. Xavier raised his hand to stop me, but let it drop. 3 Kai stood out. He was 6’2″, walking at the back of the group. His hair was long, tied back in a messy bun. His bangs were damp with sweat. He raked a hand through them, revealing sharp, stunning features. But his eyes were cold. “Don’t come near me” cold. Nobody walked with him except during practice. I weaved through the sweaty giants and stopped right in front of him. He almost ran into me. He looked down, surprised. “What do you want?” I shoved the letter into his hand. “Just wanted to confess.” Kai looked at the crumpled pink envelope in his palm, then back at me. … I wasn’t technically lying to Xavier. I did know Kai. Or at least, I thought I did. I have a problem. I have too much empathy. I want to give every sad boy a home. So, Xavier wasn’t my only pen pal. Xavier needed the most validation. He whined about losing games and begged me to sing him to sleep. Kai was the opposite. He was an ice block. I’d send ten messages, and he’d reply to one. But I didn’t care. He was hot. I looked him in the eye. “Hi, I’m Jane from the Statistics department. Kai, you don’t have to accept my confession, but let’s at least meet properly.” Kai ignored me, shouldered his racket bag, and walked away. I didn’t mind. I happily headed to the cafeteria. On the way, my phone pinged. It was one of my other chat buddies, “SaltySnack.” [Jane, didn’t your therapist say you should get a boyfriend to help with your excessive emotional attachment? How’s that going?] I typed back: [Had a target, but I decided to switch.] [What about you? You said you added your crush. How’s that going?] SaltySnack replied: [Meh. Now that we’re talking, I don’t feel like chatting with him. It’s not as fun as talking to you.] Suddenly, the floating text in the air went crazy. [Wait, why are the Side Chick and the Female Lead friends?!] [Is Xavier just another fish in Jane’s pond?] [Lily, baby, what are you doing! Xavier is waiting for your text, why are you talking to the side chick?!] [Jane, turn around! The creepy guy is following you!] [This plot is a mess.] I texted SaltySnack back while watching the comments. So the comments were useful after all. SaltySnack is Lily, the Female Lead. And Kai is following me! I whipped around. Kai froze. He was ten meters away. He didn’t seem embarrassed at all. He walked past me expressionlessly, like nothing happened. That level of chill… he’s not normal. I marveled at him and went to get food. That night, I was exhausted. I said goodnight to all my chat buddies. When I got to Xavier’s chat, I paused. Oh, right. He’s off the list. Just as I was about to exit, the “Typing…” indicator appeared at the top of the screen. It flashed for a while, but nothing came through. I was too tired to care. I turned off my phone and slept. 4 I was serious about finding a boyfriend. The next day, I went to find Kai right after class. I was too early; the courts were empty. I wandered around for a bit. When I came back, people were arguing. “Coach, the ball machine was broken when I got here. It looks intentional!” “Who left last yesterday?” “Kai. He came back after dinner and stayed until closing.” “Check the cameras?” “Cameras are broken. Haven’t been fixed yet.” Kai walked up in the middle of this. Everyone stared at him. The coach frowned. “Kai, did you break the machine?” Kai looked at him. “No.” His indifference annoyed the coach. “Just admit it if you did it. It’s not a huge deal.” The students whispered. “Definitely him.” “He won’t admit it because he doesn’t want to pay.” “What a jerk.” The comments were suspicious of him too. [He’s not the MC for a reason. Dude has moral issues.] [Look at his eyes. Scary.] Kai’s expression darkened. He looked at someone in the crowd, paused, then pulled out his phone. He played a video for the coach. It showed an empty court. In the corner, a figure was violently kicking the ball machine. The scene flashed by, then the camera flipped to a girl’s face. “Hey Kai! You’re not here yet? I’ve been waiting forever…” My voice. My face. Everyone turned to look at me standing in the back. Even my thick skin burned a little. “Haha… sorry. Just a random vlog.” But my video cleared Kai’s name. The coach walked over. “Student, did you see who broke the equipment?” I pointed at a guy in the crowd. “Him.” I hadn’t remembered until Kai played the video. “It was him.” The guy exploded. “Not me!” “It was you. You were kicking it and yelling about how unfair it was that Kai got picked for the Beijing tournament. You said he bribed the coach.” The coach glared at the guy. “You said what?” “I didn’t!” “Oh?” I bluffed, reaching for my phone. “I have more videos. Let me check.” The guy panicked. He turned and ran. Guilty. The coach waved his hand. “Alright, break it up. Practice time!” “Coach,” I said, smiling. “Did you forget something?” “What?” I pointed at Kai, who was quietly organizing his rackets. “You didn’t apologize to him.” “You accused him in front of everyone. Don’t you owe him an apology?” Kai stopped moving. He looked up. The coach spat, “Where did this brat come from? Get lost! Don’t interrupt practice!” “Everyone out! Out!” He stormed off. I wiped the spit off my face. Kai smirked. Just a tiny bit. I saw it. “You laughing at me?” His face went blank. “No.” “Whatever. I helped you today. You owe me a drink.” Kai looked at me, then nodded. “Okay.” [Wait, do I ship them?] [This is weird. Why are they making eyes at each other?] [I haven’t even seen the MC and FMC meet yet, and these two are going on dates?]

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My name is Kira Ransome, the real heiress who was swapped at birth. It was the third day after the Greenes found me that Alistair, the man I was supposed to call Dad, dropped the bomb: the Greene family business was bankrupt. What he didn’t know was that my vision was suddenly filled with flashing, scrolling text—a live feed of internet commentary, like a horrifying stock ticker of my life. “The heroine is about to be played by this whole family!” “Poor thing. The Greenes adore the fake heiress, so they’re faking bankruptcy to pressure the heroine into working herself ragged!” “Kira is such a fool, killing herself to earn money, only to discover she was tricked. Her husband even had a baby with the fake heiress!” “She ends up dead, falling from a high-rise. A textbook tragedy/angst novel.” “Honestly, she deserves it. If she hadn’t been so desperate for their family love, she never would have let them con her into such a miserable death, while the fake heiress gets the perfect life!” I watched the lines of text float past, then turned to look at the man standing opposite me, Mr. Alistair Greene. “Since the Greene family is bankrupt,” I said, my voice unnervingly calm, “I guess I’ll be leaving.” The commentary had already told me everything. They weren’t bankrupt; this was a setup. If they wanted to play games, they could do it without me. 1 My announcement froze all three of them in place. Alistair and Celeste (the woman who was supposed to be my mother) looked horrified. Even Piper Greene—the fake daughter who’d lived my charmed life—was staring me down. “Kira Ransome, what is that supposed to mean?” she snapped. “Your family is in crisis, and you’re walking away? How can you look Dad and Mom in the face?” I actually laughed. For years, it was her who had enjoyed the privilege of this life, dining on steak and caviar in my place. I was the one who had suffered, scraped by, and done without. I had received precisely zero of the Greene family’s benefits. And yet, she was asking how I could look them in the face? “The heroine is truly pathetic! They only brought her back for appearance’s sake because she looks so much like Celeste and was recognized by an outsider!” “Even after bringing her home, they never treated her right. They faked bankruptcy to turn her into a workhorse, making her constantly take on their problems until she was ready to drop from exhaustion.” “When the truth came out, they still threw her off a balcony to her death!” “And they have the nerve to ask her if she’s ‘loyal’ to the family? Gross!” The screen flashed, and the sheer audacity of my predicted fate sent a cold shock through me. Dying, falling from a building—it was a brutal ending. Knowing the script, I had no choice but to change the ending. I looked directly at Piper. “You’re the one who enjoyed the Greene family’s status. In the eyes of the world, you are the Greene heiress. What does that have to do with me, the girl who grew up an orphan?” My counter-question stunned all three of them into silence. “Kira, how can you talk like that?” Celeste rushed forward, grabbing my hand, her eyes glistening. “I know you resent Piper for taking your life, but it wasn’t her fault!” She squeezed my hand tighter, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “We can’t change what happened years ago. We know you suffered, but your father and I still love you! How can you abandon the Greenes the moment we hit a roadblock?” I looked at Celeste, whose face was a perfect mask of tearful sincerity, and felt nothing but ice. The commentary had already informed me: The Greenes had known the truth about the switch for a long time and had investigated everything. But they had spent years raising Piper and saw her as their true daughter. Bringing me back was merely a calculated move to turn me into their cheap labor, their family slave. Watching the three of them act out this pathetic drama, my heart turned to stone. “Kira Ransome, regardless of what you say, we are still your parents,” Alistair declared, his voice hard, trying to use his authority. I didn’t argue. I just smiled, a thin, meaningless smile. “Mr. Greene, your daughter is Piper Greene. I am not. Since the Greene empire is over, I’m done here.” I turned, ready to walk out the door. If they wanted to scam me, I certainly wasn’t going to stick around to be the mark. “Kira Ransome, I always knew you were nothing but a gold-digger! You only came back for the money!” Piper pointed a finger at me, shouting. “Do you have no sense of family at all?” I faced her. “You were the one who enjoyed the comforts of this family. I didn’t receive a dime or a single benefit from the Greenes. Why on earth would I sacrifice myself for you people?” My question left all three of them speechless again. “Kira, how can you be so heartless?” Celeste wailed, pulling at my arm. “We finally found you, and now that you’re back, you should help the family!” I looked at Celeste, speechless myself. The entitlement was dizzying. Seeing my clear refusal, Alistair’s face darkened with open rage. He stared at me with undisguised contempt. “Kira Ransome, we knew you were this kind of person!” He spat the words out. “I’ll tell you the truth: the Greene family isn’t bankrupt. We were only testing you! I can’t believe this is how you reacted to hearing the news!” He paused, clearly waiting for me to break, to beg for forgiveness and my place in the family. I remained completely unmoved. “Since the Greene family isn’t bankrupt, I have no reason to stay. Mr. Greene, I’ll be going now.” Knowing the true nature of their intentions, there was no need for pleasantries. As I walked away, Alistair scoffed, his face a mask of cold fury. “Kira Ransome, mark my words: from this day forward, you are not my daughter! Don’t you dare claim to be a Greene ever again!” “Don’t worry, Mr. Greene,” I said, turning back briefly to meet his eye. “I promise I will never, in this lifetime, claim to have any association with you.” With that, I turned and walked out. I had already given up on the Greene family. There was nothing left to salvage. Behind me, Piper was already comforting them. “Mom, Dad, don’t worry! Kira may not claim you, but I do! I’ll always be your true daughter!” “Oh, Piper, you are the child Mom loves the most!” Celeste sobbed, pulling Piper into a hug. Alistair, meanwhile, was focused on me, still gathering the last of my meager possessions. “You ungrateful girl! How could I have given birth to such a viper!” I ignored him. None of them were good people. The commentary kept rolling. “LOL, the script is changing! I told you the heroine should do this! The Greenes deserve everything they get!” “Exactly! Kira is great, unlike Piper, that total wreck who bleeds the family dry and loses money everywhere she goes!” “After Kira dies, Piper actually kicks the old couple out, and they freeze to death under a bridge!” I realized, watching the frantic chatter, that the Greenes were heading for a dire, self-inflicted fate. So be it. Let them mess up their own lives. After leaving the Greenes, I initially worried about supporting myself, but the live commentary kept offering advice, essentially a blueprint for success. They detailed exactly how to make money. Within months, following the tips on the feed, I had amassed a respectable amount of capital. “The plot is going totally off the rails! The heroine isn’t just intercepting the Greenes’ resources; she’s thriving!” “Haven’t you noticed? She does whatever we suggest! This is the story I want to read!” “As long as Kira doesn’t crawl back to the Greenes, I’m sticking around!” One day, while working late at my new office, the feed suddenly flared up again. “The male lead has arrived!” I paused, raising an eyebrow. The male lead? Who was that? “Watch out, he’s a total scumbag. He gets with Kira on the surface, but he’s secretly sleeping with the fake heiress, who’s pregnant with his baby. Yet he still plans to marry Kira!” “This kind of trash man better not ruin the heroine!” “Is the angst train about to depart?” As the commentary flew, my phone rang. Seeing the name on the screen, I immediately understood who they meant by “the male lead.” Noah Blackwood. My first love. We’d been high school sweethearts, promising each other a future. But after graduation, Noah had gone overseas for college, and we’d completely lost touch. I never expected him to call me now. “Kira Ransome, I’m back. I need to see you.” I glanced at the live feed. “The heroine has no idea the fake heiress knew Noah was Kira’s idealized first love, her ‘White Moonlight,’ and spent his time abroad running into him on purpose!” “Noah and the fake heiress are already hot and heavy, and he’s helping her scheme to hurt Kira!” “The fake heiress is carrying Noah’s baby!” The information clicked into place. I knew everything I needed to know. “Noah Blackwood,” I said, feigning curiosity. “Why are you calling me?” The last remnants of my high school fantasy vanished instantly. I was not going to be tangled up with him. “Kira Ransome, I came back specifically for you!” His voice was playfully earnest. “Come pick me up at the airport, okay?” I shook my head. “No, Noah. I have work to do. I won’t be able to meet you.” Before he could argue, I hung up. I had zero interest in him now. “Aha! The heroine is deviating from the script!” “That’s right! Who said that guy was the male lead? We don’t need that kind of tragedy!” The screen buzzed, and I went back to my work. But Noah was persistent. “Kira Ransome, I miss you so much. I know I was wrong to leave, but I just need to see you.” His voice on the phone sounded desperate. “Fine. Let’s meet once.” I thought about it for a moment. I needed to see what they were planning. I met Noah at a downtown bistro. He was already seated. When he saw me, he stood up and walked straight toward me. He looked exactly as I remembered: sunny, handsome, and charming. If I hadn’t known what I knew, his looks alone would have made me weak. The live feed was currently a mess of angry comments about Noah’s various flaws. I sat down opposite him. “You wanted to see me?” “Kira Ransome, I missed you,” Noah said, staring intensely. “I only came back because I couldn’t forget you.” “DO NOT BELIEVE HIM, HEROINE! The scumbag was just hooking up with the fake heiress right before this meeting!” I smiled, a genuine smile of amusement. “Noah, we haven’t been anything to each other for a long time. If that’s all you wanted, I’ll be going now.” “Kira Ransome, don’t you love me anymore?” He reached across the table and anxiously grabbed my wrist. “You promised you’d love me forever! When I left, you said you’d wait for me, no matter how long!” I immediately yanked my hand away. “Noah, you know the truth about you and Piper, don’t you?” His face instantly drained of color. He clearly hadn’t expected me to know anything about his connection to Piper. He looked utterly panicked. “Kira Ransome, what are you talking about? There’s nothing going on between me and Piper!” he stammered, flustered. I didn’t bother listening to his lies. I got up and left. I had barely stepped out of the restaurant when I saw Piper Greene waiting near the entrance. She glared at me, cold and furious. “Kira Ransome, you ungrateful viper, Mom and Dad demand to see you!” I walked right past her, not even acknowledging the command. I knew they weren’t giving up, especially after seeing how quickly and successfully I’d launched my own company these last few months. They wanted me back to work for the Greene family. But I was never going back. Moreover, Alistair and Celeste were completely oblivious to the fact that, thanks to Piper’s mismanagement, the Greene company was teetering on the edge of financial disaster, requiring only a final push to collapse. It wasn’t my problem. Watching me leave, Piper’s face was twisted with fury. She suddenly lunged forward and grabbed my arm. “Kira Ransome, you backstabbing snake! They are your real parents!” “You’re wrong,” I said, giving her a cold, dismissive look. “They are your real parents. They have nothing to do with me.” “Don’t come looking for me again.” I finished, pulling my arm free and turning to walk away. “Kira Ransome, how can you be this way? Mom has cried buckets over you!” she pleaded desperately. Just then, Noah Blackwood rushed out of the restaurant and joined the fray. “Kira Ransome, how can you refuse your own parents?” he demanded, trying to block my path. “Kira, you need to listen to me and go back home!” I spared a glance for the two of them, said nothing, and kept walking. I hadn’t even made it back to my office before my assistant rushed in. “Boss, someone is slandering you online!” I opened the website. A video was playing: Alistair and Celeste, sitting in front of a camera, tearfully accusing me, their own flesh-and-blood daughter, of abandoning them. I watched their pathetic performance and actually smiled. Alistair and Celeste spoke endlessly about how difficult their lives had been and how I, their biological daughter, refused to acknowledge them. The live commentary was overwhelming, all of it denouncing me as an unfilial daughter.

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The first thing I did after I was reborn was scatter my best friend’s ashes. In my previous life, Seraphina had gotten pregnant out of wedlock, brutally abandoned by her boyfriend and her own family. She barely held on through the delivery, only to suffer a massive hemorrhage in the operating room. With her last breath, she begged me to take in her newborn son. Pitying her, I soft-heartedly agreed. Caring for the baby meant my studies tanked, and I was expelled from my elite university. Unable to finish my degree, I was forced to work menial jobs, enduring countless indignities and sneers, all while raising a child who wasn’t mine. Finally, the year he turned eighteen, he was spotted by a scout, starred in a movie, and instantly shot to fame—an Oscar-winning actor. At the awards ceremony, Seraphina, my “dead” best friend, walked in, arm-in-arm with my ex-boyfriend. I stumbled forward in disbelief, demanding an explanation. She simply smiled at me. “Congratulations on completing the test.” My mind blanked. My ex-boyfriend, Bryce, stepped forward, a look of cold condescension on his face. “Seraphina is a billionaire’s daughter. How were we to know you weren’t just using her for money?” “Now that you’ve diligently raised our son, you’ve earned the right to be Seraphina’s acquaintance.” “If you see our son through marriage and children of his own, then, maybe, you’ll earn the right to be Seraphina’s best friend.” My head exploded. Her friend? Was I desperate for her friendship? That was eighteen years of my life! A desperate tide of rage and betrayal rose up, choking me. I lunged at them, my eyes blazing. Suddenly, Kian, the son I’d raised, rushed off the stage and shoved me away. “Are you crazy? Who gave you the right to try and hurt my parents?” The sharp, sudden shock was too much. My heart seized in my chest, and I passed out cold. When I woke up, I was back. Back to the day Seraphina gave birth. 1 “The patient is hemorrhaging badly. Get Dr. Chen in here.” “Are you the patient’s next of kin? We’re short on Type B blood. Can you donate?” A nurse approached me. I blinked, dazed, then sharply looked up at the glowing SURGERY IN PROGRESS sign above the door. It was Seraphina’s surgery. I had been reborn. My breathing hitched. I instinctively pulled my sleeve down, covering the veins in my arm. The nurse, seeing my lack of response, nudged me urgently. “Hurry! The patient is fading fast.” I shook my head, settling the cold, hard certainty into my stomach. I said, my voice unnervingly calm, “I am not. You need to find someone else.” The nurse looked momentarily stunned, then quickly spun around and ran back into the operating room. I let out a cold, inner laugh. Last time, I’d rushed to donate without a second thought. They didn’t even run a proper check on me—they’d just drawn four hundred CCs of blood. It was clearly premeditated. Dizzy and lightheaded from the blood loss, I’d barely been able to think. When the nurse had helped me into the delivery room, and Seraphina had begged me to raise her baby, I’d blindly and miserably agreed. While I was lost in the memory, the OR light flickered off. The doctor emerged, his face grave with regret. “We did our best. The patient is still conscious. You can say your goodbyes.” I walked slowly into the room. Seraphina was there, looking exactly as she had before—pale, weak, a vision of suffering. She looked at me, a hint of accusation in her expression. “Rowan, why wouldn’t you donate blood for me? If you had helped, maybe I could have pulled through.” The nurse from earlier chimed in, her tone dripping with moral judgment. “Exactly! She considered you her best friend, and you wouldn’t even give a little blood? That’s a living life you refused to save! Don’t you feel any guilt?” Seraphina wiped a fake tear from her eye. “It’s done, I won’t blame you. My parents and my boyfriend abandoned me; I have nothing left to live for, anyway.” She looked down at the tiny bundle beside her. “But my son… he’s so small. I’m terrified for him. Rowan, you’re the only one I can trust. Please, can you raise him for me?” The nurse started sobbing softly, shooting me a look of pure condemnation. “How tragic! You contributed to her death. Are you really heartless enough to abandon her baby, too?” Watching the two of them perform this manipulative duet, I felt a deep, chilling disgust. Last time, weakened by the blood draw, I had been easily cornered and morally blackmailed. I had genuinely believed Seraphina was my friend, and the sight of her fading away had broken me. But what had that “pity” gotten me? My boyfriend had instantly accused me of cheating and fathering an illegitimate child, abandoning me without a backward glance. I couldn’t afford childcare and was forced to drop out of university, falling from a high-achieving student to someone with a high school diploma. Without a degree, I couldn’t find a decent job. It was all minimum wage, manual labor. When the child was eight, he developed a relentless high fever and ended up in the ICU. The medical bills were impossible; I was forced to take out predatory online loans. When the boy recovered, the debt collectors arrived, threatening and intimidating me. The child cried constantly, and the neighbors, tired of the noise, complained to the landlord. I was evicted, forced to wander with the boy like a beggar. For eighteen years, I worked as a diner waitress, a cleaning lady. Just when I finally found a boss who valued skill over a degree, and my work stabilized, I tried to find a stable relationship, some support. The first time I brought an almost-boyfriend home, an old neighbor cornered him the minute I was out of earshot. “Listen, handsome, you’re making a mistake! Don’t you know she’s got baggage? You’re too good for a woman with a stray kid.” He hesitated. “But Rowan told me the boy is her friend’s son.” The neighbor sneered, clucking her tongue. “You believe that? She definitely got knocked up when she was young and wild, and made up that story so she wouldn’t be stuck alone. I’m telling you, I’ve seen her type before. Go find a nice, clean girl.” He paused, then turned and left without even saying goodbye. I collapsed behind the door, quietly sobbing. Eighteen years of sneers and judgment, eighteen years of raising him alone—only to be told, at his glorious awards ceremony, that it was all a test? Did I want her friendship that badly? My youth, my future, my chance at a normal life—all destroyed. And it was all a joke. Worst of all, the son I’d sacrificed everything to raise didn’t hesitate to side with them. The familiar hatred surged, almost making me shake. I took several deep, measured breaths to steady myself. My eyes, now completely devoid of warmth, fixed on Seraphina. “I have no obligation to raise your child. If you can’t manage it, send him to foster care.” 2 Seraphina bolted upright in the bed, perfectly healthy, and pointed a finger at me. “You heartless monster! You call yourself my best friend? You won’t donate blood and you won’t raise my child? What kind of friend are you?” I eyed her coolly. “You look remarkably well, Seraphina. Perhaps the hospital was mistaken about your condition.” She realized she’d given the game away, panicked for a split second, and then collapsed back onto the bed, groaning and calling for a doctor. The scene descended into chaos, and I was shoved out of the room. A few minutes later, the cooperating nurse emerged, clutching a baby. She forcibly thrust the infant into my arms. “The patient had a sudden turn—she’s gone. The birth certificate is filed; your name is listed as the mother.” “Don’t even think about abandoning him. If you do, we have the authority to call the police.” I almost laughed out loud. High-pressure, forced sales. I was the one who should be calling the police! I brushed past her and stormed back into the OR. I wanted to see how far Seraphina would take her act. But she was nowhere to be found. How could she disappear in a matter of minutes? The nurse followed me, scolding furiously. “This is an operating room! Who let you in here? Get out now!” I cut across her rant. “Where is she?” She rolled her eyes. “She died, of course. They took her for cremation.” As if on cue, a small urn containing her “ashes” was delivered. I remembered. Last time, it had happened this way, too. I was pushed out, and shortly after, they told me she had passed away. Distraught, I wept with the baby in my arms, and moments later, they delivered the urn. No hospital has the right to cremate a body without family consent, and cremation certainly doesn’t happen that fast. But in my weakened, emotional state, I hadn’t seen the blatant scheme. This time, I wouldn’t be fooled into taking on this burden. I reached out, grabbed the urn, quickly lifted the lid, and scattered the contents directly onto the floor. A cloud of dark powder billowed out. The nurse shrieked. “What are you doing?! That’s the patient’s remains!” The surrounding crowd scattered in terror. “Oh my god! That’s bad luck! Why would she scatter ashes here? Is she crazy?” “What are the hospital security guards doing? Get her out before she causes more trouble!” “Did any get on me? If she’s passed on bad karma, I’ll sue!” The crowd erupted in angry accusations. The nurse, desperate to protect the hospital’s image, quickly addressed me. “That is deeply disrespectful to the deceased! Now, you get down on your knees and scoop up the ashes with your hands!” “You need to kneel and knock your head three times to appease the spirit’s resentment, before you taint any more innocent people!” I gave a bitter, mocking laugh. “Since when did a hospital subscribe to superstition?” “If these were real ashes, I’d apologize for my conduct. But look closely, everyone. Do those look like human remains?” 3 People peered down at the dark powder, murmurs of doubt spreading through the crowd. “That doesn’t look like bone fragments, does it?” Human remains, post-cremation, are a mix of gritty bone shards, not fine, homogenous powder, like a pile of dirt. I turned back to the nurse. “You cremated my friend without my consent, and now her remains are nowhere to be found.” “Am I right to suspect that there was a surgical error, and you’re rushing to cover up the evidence?” The nurse instantly lost her composure, shouting in panicked denial. “Nonsense! Our hospital is fully certified!” But the seed of doubt was planted, and a simple denial wouldn’t clear it up. Several family members began to exchange worried glances. “My grandmother died suddenly during a routine operation here, too. Could the hospital be involved in something sinister?” “They recommend the crematorium and the funeral home. Maybe it’s a black market scheme.” The nurse was sweating profusely. She’d never imagined I would scatter the ashes on the spot, causing such a massive public scene. She managed to stabilize the crowd, then frantically ran back into the OR. I chuckled lightly, then looked down and gently touched the baby’s soft, pink cheek. Oh, you want me to raise him? Fine. But it will cost you. A few minutes later, the nurse returned, out of breath, clutching a document. She gave me a nervous, placating smile. “It was a misunderstanding. The patient signed a waiver beforehand, stating that in the event of her death, she wanted an immediate cremation.” “That’s why we didn’t notify you. As for the ashes—a new, inexperienced nurse made a mistake. Your friend’s body is still waiting for cremation.” “We take full responsibility. We’d like to offer you twenty thousand dollars in compensation for the distress caused by our oversight. Does that sound fair?” I took the envelope, feeling the thickness of the cash inside. I glanced at the contract—the ink on the signatures was still wet. I didn’t push for more details, just took the money and left with the baby. Since Seraphina trusted me so much, willing to pay me to raise her child, I thought with a sneer, I certainly won’t disappoint her. Eighteen years flew by in a flash. I used the twenty thousand dollars as seed capital to establish a strong presence on social media. I hired countless influencers, even invested in film and television production. The money multiplied, and I spared no expense in cultivating the child. This time, I started him young, casting him as a child actor in various shows. By the time he won his Oscar, he was already America’s Sweetheart, a household name. His current fame and status far exceeded what he’d achieved in the previous timeline. I sat in the VIP section, watching my adopted son give his acceptance speech. I counted down the seconds in my head. I had raised the child so successfully; Seraphina must be desperate to claim him now. Sure enough, the moment Kian finished his speech, Seraphina and my ex-boyfriend, Bryce, sashayed down the aisle toward the stage in a blaze of high-profile confidence. Seraphina, her eyes red with false emotion, threw her arms around Kian. “Son, Mommy has finally found you!” The audience and his fans were stunned. “What is this? Is this some kind of staged family reunion?” Kian, my adopted son, looked utterly bewildered. “My mother died eighteen years ago. Who are you?” Seraphina beamed, delighted by his mention of the death. “That’s right! I suffered complications giving birth to you and entrusted you to Rowan Ashworth’s care.” “I was miraculously saved on the way to the crematorium. But when I came back to look for you, you were gone from the hospital.” Seraphina turned to where I was sitting, her voice thick with sobs. “Rowan, I am so grateful you looked after my son all these years. But I don’t understand why he’s so cold to me.” “Did you, perhaps, speak ill of me behind my back?” Her eyes welled up, a picture of wounded innocence. I laughed coldly to myself. Seraphina was still clinging to the delusion that the superstar I had invested millions in was her son. But this time, I wasn’t the idiot she needed me to be. I was here for revenge. “I certainly won’t stop you from reuniting with your son,” I said calmly. Joy instantly flashed in Seraphina’s eyes, a triumphant smirk crossing her face. Then I tilted my head, feigning confusion. “But the Oscar winner isn’t your son, Seraphina.”

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Because I didn’t rank first in the whole school on my finals, Momma locked me in the woodshed and starved me for seven days and seven nights. In the end, I starved to death. Momma just smiled, looking relieved. “Finally dead. Now I can focus on birthing my son in peace.” When I opened my eyes again, I was that newborn son. They named me Hunter. This time, I became their living nightmare. 1 My name was Penny. Nobody in my family liked me. When I was three, a traveling psychic came to our porch. Momma grabbed him, desperate to know when she’d get a boy. The psychic took one look at her, frowned, and dropped a bomb that turned everyone pale. He said, “Give it up. You’re destined to have only one child in this life.” Momma’s face went cold. “What if that child… wasn’t around anymore?” The psychic shrugged. “Just treat the kid you have right.” Momma’s face went dark. She looked at me with pure hatred. She blamed her lack of a son entirely on me. “If you died, maybe I could have a boy.” I was too little to understand. I just thought Momma looked scary, so I reached out for a hug. She slapped my hands away. When I was five, Momma took me to the city on a train. She “accidentally” left me at the station. I screamed until my throat bled. A nice lady found me, and it took two weeks for the police to get me back home. At six, Momma locked me in the house. A fire started out of nowhere. I pounded on the door until my knuckles cracked. A firefighter pulled me out just in time. Momma just scoffed, muttering about people being “nosy busybodies.” When I was seven, Momma got pregnant. She paid good money for a scan that promised it was a boy. She was ecstatic. I was happy for her, too. I knew if I had a little brother, Daddy and Nana might finally be nice to Momma. But every time Momma rubbed her belly, she remembered the psychic’s words. She couldn’t relax. She spent her days figuring out how to get rid of me. That night, she found an excuse—my grades—to deny me dinner and locked me in the woodshed. “If you ain’t number one, you don’t eat.” “Starve until you learn.” And that’s how I died. Alone in the cold, hungry for seven days. In my last moments, my mouth was dry as dust, and every organ in my body shut down. After I died, my soul lingered. I watched them burn my small body and toss the ashes onto a dirt pile like trash. Momma rubbed her belly, cooing softly, “Momma only needs you, baby boy.” “That wretched girl is gone. You’re gonna be healthy. The psychic said one kid, and now, there’s only one left.” I drifted for eight months until my soul began to fade. In my final second, I saw Momma being wheeled into surgery. Outside stood Nana, who used to call me “waste of space,” and Daddy, who never looked at me. They were laughing, chatting, waiting for the Prince. I felt a blinding light, and I didn’t want to watch anymore. I let go. Then I opened my eyes. I was a baby. Nana took me from the nurse, grinning so hard her dentures nearly slipped. “It’s a boy!” Daddy’s eyes lit up like Christmas lights. He stuffed a thick wad of cash into my swaddle. “The Miller line is safe! We’ll call him Hunter. He’s gonna be the best of us.” Momma, lying weak on the bed, squinted her eyes in joy. “Bring me my baby boy.” The second she saw my face, she flinched. “Why… why does he look exactly like Penny did when she was born?” Nana snapped, “Shut your mouth! Don’t speak that bad luck on him. All babies look the same. You’re talking crazy.” Daddy sneered. “You lost your mind in labor? He’s way better looking than that little mistake ever was.” My face was red and scrunchy, eyes barely open. Of course they wouldn’t admit the resemblance. When I was born a girl, they left the hospital immediately. They never really looked at me. Nana stomped home in a huff that day. Daddy went “out of town for work.” I snapped out of the shock of rebirth. The smiles around me were sickeningly sweet. “I’m giving my antique gold chain to my grandson.” “Daddy’s gonna give you the world, son.” “Our family finally has a legacy.” I never got an ounce of love before. Now I knew why. It was just because I was a girl. Since God gave me a second chance—and made me their precious golden boy—I was going to make sure they enjoyed every second of it. 2 Because Momma birthed a son, she got treated like a queen. Nana slaughtered the old laying hens to make soup for her and waited on her hand and foot. Daddy stopped being stingy. He doubled the grocery money. Our rundown trailer felt alive for the first time. At the one-month mark, Daddy threw a huge backyard BBQ. He stood in the middle of the crowd, holding a beer. “Thank y’all for coming to celebrate my boy. Eat up, drink up!” Momma put me in the cradle so she could eat. Her body was weak, but if she didn’t hold me, I screamed. My wails drowned out the conversation. Defeated, Momma had to hold me while she ate one-handed. She couldn’t bear to let me cry. She just had to suffer. Soon, I turned one. Daddy threw a massive bash. Folks from three towns over came. I was dressed in a little red suit, held tight in Momma’s arms. Her eyes never left me, terrified someone would snatch me away. She told everyone, “Ain’t my Hunter handsome?” Before the party started, we did the “Choosing” ceremony—a superstition to predict my future. Nana laid out five items: an action figure, a shovel, a book, a wad of cash, and a red string. Momma set me on the table. The whole crowd watched. Momma kept chanting, “Pick the book, pick the book.” I gurgled, looking around. I crawled over and grabbed the book. Momma shrieked, “I told you! My Hunter’s a genius!” Nana clapped so hard she hit the table. “He’s going to Harvard!” Everyone started blowing smoke up my parents’ asses. Right then, I kicked my leg out. I aimed for the sewing scissors sitting next to the red string and knocked them right into Nana’s thigh. If I had the strength, I would’ve stabbed her myself. “AHHH!” She screamed like a banshee. Everyone saw me do it. Momma rushed to pick me up. Daddy got mad because his mama was bleeding. He grabbed my shoulder, his voice stern. “Hunter! What the hell?” Nana, clutching her bleeding leg, yelled back, “Don’t you yell at my grandbaby!” Momma snatched me back. “He’s a baby, Earl! He don’t know any better!” I leaned into Momma’s chest, fighting the urge to laugh. See? When you’re the favorite, people make excuses for your violence. With his mom hurt, Daddy was still fuming, looking at me suspiciously. I needed to cover my tracks. I looked right at Daddy, opened my mouth, and chirped. “Dada. Dada.” The whole room went dead silent. Then, chaos. “Earl! Your boy is talking! He’s a prodigy!” “He called you Dada! Get the camera!” “Speaking at one? That’s genius level.” That one word erased all of Daddy’s anger. Nana forgot the pain in her leg. She was grinning like she’d won the lottery. Everyone praised me. Daddy got lost in the ego boost. He started pounding shots, his face turning purple. Momma took me aside to keep me away from the alcohol fumes. Her eyes were shining. She whispered, “Hunter, baby, look at me. Do you know who I am?” “Say Mama.” “Hunter, I’m your Mama.” I opened my mouth. I looked deep into her hopeful eyes. “Stupid Bitch. Stupid Bitch.” Nana, hobbling by, burst out laughing. “‘Stupid Bitch!’ That’s my boy! He knows what to call you already!” She hung the gold chain around my neck. The pendant was a dragon. “My little dragon. You’re gonna be king of this hill.” Nana hugged me. Momma looked dazed. “Stupid Bitch” was what Daddy called her every single day. She comforted herself. “He’s just repeating Earl. It means he’s smart.” “My son learns so fast.” “That’s my boy.” 3 Daddy could drink, but tonight he was gone. People say the truth comes out when you’re wasted. My Daddy’s brother—Uncle Buck—was absolutely hammered. He stumbled over to me, face bright red. He stared at me for a solid minute, then spun around and grabbed Daddy’s arm. “Earl… why the hell does your boy look exactly like your dead girl?” The room dropped ten degrees. Momma and Nana’s faces went gray. Daddy was slow to process. “Bullshit. My girl is dead. This is my son. Hunter. He’s the legacy. You don’t know crap.” But Uncle Buck kept looking. “I’m tellin’ ya. I held Penny when she was one. Identical. Earl… you just rebirthed your daughter.” Nana lost it. “You’re just jealous ‘cause your wife only spits out girls!” Uncle Buck wasn’t having it. He hated that Daddy was the favorite now. He snorted and spat a mouthful of beer right in Nana’s face. Daddy roared, “You’re just bitter because my line continues and yours ends with you!” “You ain’t man enough to make a boy!” That hit a nerve. Uncle Buck smashed his beer bottle on the floor. Glass shards flew everywhere. Momma shielded me, whispering, “Don’t be scared, Hunter. Momma’s here.” Uncle Buck whipped out his phone. He dug up an old video. “Look! I got a video from years ago. The kid looks exactly like Penny. I’m telling you, you killed that girl, and now she’s back for revenge.” “Earl, you’re cursed!” “Hahahaha!” Watching Uncle Buck laugh like a maniac… honestly? He wasn’t wrong. Nana glanced at the video. She saw the resemblance. The most damning part? We both had a mole right above our left eyebrow. But I was Hunter. I didn’t need to explain. They would do it for me. Momma said, “So what? Genetics are genetics. Hunter looks stronger than Penny ever was.” Nana said, “They came from the same womb, of course they look alike.” Daddy didn’t bother with logic. He just wanted to shut Buck up. Drunk Daddy was strong. He threw a haymaker and knocked Uncle Buck out cold. Buck ended up in the hospital. Daddy spent a few days in the county jail. Afterward, Momma scolded him. “Now Hunter can’t get a government job with you having a record.” Daddy spat on the ground. “Government jobs pay peanuts. Hunter’s gonna be a CEO.” Hah. The confidence. 4 Time flew. I was three, the center of the universe. I bullied them relentlessly, and life was good. I knocked over dinner plates? They said, “He’s got spirit! Nobody will push him around!” I punched them in the face? They said, “Look at those little muscles! So cute!” I threw cash in the trash? They said, “He treats money like dirt, that means he’s gonna be filthy rich!” Every time I acted out, they spun it into a compliment. I looked at my chubby toddler body and sighed. “Revenge is hard when you’re three feet tall.” I just needed to grow up faster. But an opportunity came early. When I was four, I noticed Nana kept trying to send me outside to play with the neighbors. Before, Nana hated the neighbor kids. She used to say, “Hunter is gonna be a boss. Don’t let those trailer trash kids rub off on him.” She thought I didn’t remember. But I remembered everything. Even the nasty things she said in my past life. Something was up. Nana dragged me to the playground and tried to rush back home. I slipped away and circled back to our house. I heard noises coming from inside. Disgusting noises. My stomach churned. I never expected Nana, at 60, to be getting busy. It was shocking, even for someone who had lived twice. I calmed myself down. This was perfect. I sprinted back to the playground, screaming at the top of my lungs. “Help! Help! Bad man in the house! Nana is screaming for help! Neighbors, come quick!” “I hear Nana crying! Help!” My screaming alerted the whole trailer park. People grabbed brooms, bats, whatever they could find, and ran to my porch. I fell to my knees, crying fake tears. “Please save my Nana!” The mob rushed into the yard. They didn’t hear screaming, but I was so convincing they kicked the door down. They stormed the bedrooms. And there was Nana, tangled in the sheets with the town loner—a guy known for never bathing. They scrambled to cover up. The neighbors froze. I seized the moment. I ran in and started hitting the man. “You bad man! You hurt my Nana! I’ll kill you!” I was small, so I “tripped” and fell on my butt, wailing in pain. The Mayor picked me up. “Shameless. With the grandbaby right there.” Just then, Daddy and Momma came running home from the fields, holding hoes. “Momma! We’re coming!” Daddy yelled. He burst into the room. He stood there, brain short-circuiting. Then he started shaking. I hugged Daddy’s leg. “Daddy! Nana was being bullied! Kill the bad man!” Daddy roared and threw the hoe at the lovers. They dodged, barely. He crouched down to hug me. “Don’t look, son. Daddy will handle it.” Nobody suspects a child of lying. Especially a child who tells the truth.

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