Category: English

My father loved my mother to the point of obsession, but she died because of me. Later, he adopted another daughter. The adopted daughter looked exactly like my mother. On our sixteenth birthday… He treated his adopted daughter like a beloved princess, while his guests mistook me for the maid’s daughter. Right then, my phone rang. “Happy birthday, baby! It’s been so long, Mommy missed you so much!” Me: ! My mother had returned. 1 When Chloe’s guests ordered me to wash her car, my father, Arthur Davis, happened to return from an outing. His assistant, trailing behind him, presented a priceless crystal castle to Chloe. Immediately, Chloe’s classmates gasped in awe. Their envy was palpable. Then, I heard Arthur’s voice, filled with indulgence and affection: “A castle for my princess. Happy birthday, my one and only little princess.” His only princess. I rolled those words around in my mind, a bitter taste spreading through my chest. Today wasn’t just Chloe’s birthday. It was mine, too. But, just like every other year, I received nothing. Because in Arthur’s eyes, I was a sinner. I didn’t deserve a birthday. Because I killed my mother. 2 Ten years ago today, my mother was in a fatal car accident while going out to buy the strawberry cake I was crying for. She left us forever. From that day on, Arthur hated me with every fiber of his being. At her funeral, he announced to everyone, “Harper Davis is no longer my daughter.” I crouched on the ground, blinking my red, swollen eyes at him, completely lost and confused. I was too young then to understand his cruelty. Only as I grew older did I realize how absolute that rejection was. Later. His company went public, and his net worth skyrocketed. After becoming a wealthy CEO, he adopted Chloe. From then on… He only loved Chloe. Chloe lived in the master suite of our mansion; I lived in the maid’s quarters. Chloe was chauffeured to school; I took the public bus. Chloe’s closet overflowed with new designer clothes; I wore whatever she discarded. Chloe lived like royalty. I lived like a live-in servant. It was true, though. I was a servant with no parents. 3 But I wanted to be a princess, too. I remembered Arthur promising me that when I was little. Back then, my mother was still alive. Arthur’s company was just starting out, and our family of three was crammed into a tiny, two-bedroom apartment. To support him, my mother secretly transferred the holiday money my grandfather gave me into Arthur’s account. “Harper and I don’t need much. Don’t worry,” she would always coax him. I loved to parrot her words. “Daddy, don’t worry! Harper will give you all her allowance…” Before I could even finish, Arthur broke down. He pulled us close, pressing his face between ours. Soon, scalding drops fell onto my chubby cheeks. They tickled. Looking back, those must have been his tears. Before I turned ten, he would constantly tell me: “When Daddy becomes successful and makes lots of money, my Harper will be a princess. How does that sound?” … See? He promised. But he broke his promise. As I was lost in thought… A snobbish, polite voice interrupted me: “Excuse me, maid girl? Why aren’t you washing the car? Do you think just because I’m Chloe’s classmate, you can ignore me?” Chloe went to an elite private school. Her classmates were all rich kids, naturally acting high and mighty. But. I wasn’t a maid. I glared at her, about to snap back. But the next second… Arthur’s cold voice cut through the air, directed at me. “Why aren’t you going?” Why aren’t you going? Hearing those words felt like taking a sledgehammer to the chest. How could I forget? In Arthur’s eyes, I was just a maid. “Right away.” 4 Arthur had made it clear: if I ever displeased him, he would cut off my tuition and living expenses. But. I had promised my mother I would get into the best university. I couldn’t break my promise to her. So. As long as Arthur kept paying my tuition, I would endure anything. I bit my lip gently and turned around. Then. A soft voice called out from behind me: “Daddy, why don’t we let Harper blow out the candles with me? It’s her birthday today, too. She was actually really looking forward to it. Yesterday, she even snuck into my closet and tried on my evening gown…” I frowned. I turned around to say I hadn’t done any such thing. But a wave of disgusted murmurs erupted: “Oh my god, a maid actually dared to wear her employer’s dress?” “Chloe, did you get that dress dry-cleaned?” “Unbelievable.” “So she’s a thief, too.” 5 Hearing those whispers, I almost charged over and shoved Chloe’s face into the cake. I wanted her dead. I admit it. Last night. When she was showing off her new dress, I was envious. But that was it. Just envious. I never stole anything… I am not a thief. My eyes turned red with fury, but I didn’t dare move an inch. Because. Arthur seemed to anticipate my reaction and stepped protectively in front of Chloe. He glared at me, his face dark with fury. Disgust. Hatred. Coldness. “How could she give birth to a daughter like you? Apologize. Or you’re expelled tomorrow.” Threatening me again. Hah. “How could she marry a husband like you?” I shot back. The moment the words left my mouth. Arthur’s face turned completely black. I had never seen him look so terrifying. 6 Slap— A resounding slap echoed through the living room. Arthur had ignored me for a decade, but this was the first time he ever struck me. Within seconds. My right cheek swelled up painfully. I was furious and heartbroken. But. What could I do? I was only sixteen. I only had this father in name. A father who… Ignored me. Hated me. Threatened me. Hit me. It was true. He didn’t love me. Not even a little bit. Meanwhile. Chloe, acting as if she had accidentally caused a scene with her “good intentions,” rushed over to play peacemaker. “Daddy, it’s normal for girls to like pretty dresses! I didn’t mean to get her in trouble.” Then what did she mean? Whatever. I had already been hit. Nothing else mattered now. So. Slap. Slap. Slap. I slapped Chloe three times in rapid succession. “That’s the price for framing me.” 7 After I hit her, Chloe crumbled like a fragile flower. “Harper Davis!” Seeing Chloe looking so disheveled, Arthur’s face filled with distress. He helped her up himself. He comforted her softly: “Does it hurt? Daddy will call the doctor right now.” Chloe covered her face, tears streaming down her cheeks. “It’s okay, Daddy. Don’t blame Harper. Please… don’t hit her again.” Once she said that. Her classmates snapped out of their shock and began condemning her for being too “kind.” They all urged Arthur to throw me out. Hah. Throw me out. It was ironic, and pathetic. I looked up, making eye contact with Arthur for the first time in years, and saw the absolute coldness in his eyes. His voice was devoid of any emotion. “Harper. I am sending you to an orphanage. Starting today, you will never set foot in this house again.” An orphanage. I was perfectly fine with that. I was already an orphan anyway. Plus. I could still go to school if I lived there. It was miles better than staying near Arthur. …A few moments later. Arthur’s assistant escorted me out. I turned and walked away, head held high. I felt no attachment whatsoever. However. I hadn’t taken two steps when the phone in my pocket suddenly rang. I didn’t want to answer it at first. But the vibration pulsed steadily, like someone knocking on the door to my heart. Finally, I pulled it out. I glanced at the caller ID. Instantly. I froze. I couldn’t believe it. I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again. “Mom…” “It’s Mom!” I stopped dead in my tracks. The assistant beside me rushed me, “Hurry up, Mr. Davis doesn’t want to see you…” I ignored him. With trembling fingers, I answered the call. Even though I knew it was impossible. My mother was dead. It had been ten years. This number had never been active. Was it a cruel prank? But even so. My mother was dead. I answered, but didn’t dare speak. I just stood there, mouth agape, frozen. Then, a voice came through the speaker. A painfully familiar voice— “Baby! Happy birthday! It’s been so long! Mommy missed you so much!” Her voice, amplified by the phone’s speaker, echoed throughout Arthur’s living room. 8 My mother’s voice was exactly as I remembered it. It hadn’t changed at all. Like a warm cup of water. Comforting and soft. “Mom…” I burst into tears. Is it really you? Mom? Are you calling me from heaven? I gripped the phone tightly, my fingers trembling. In that moment, it was the most precious thing in the world to me. But the next second. My hand was empty. Arthur had snatched the phone away. “Give it back!” I ground my teeth in fury. Did I not even have the right to talk to my dead mother? She called me. Not him! I reached up to grab it, but Arthur was too tall. He shot me a cold look and ordered the assistant to pull me away. As our eyes met, I saw that his were red. Yet, when he spoke, his voice was perfectly calm. “Who is this? Why are you impersonating my late wife?” Me: … Was he deaf? Could he not recognize her voice? Every instinct told me that this was my mother. Sure enough, a moment later. The voice snapped through the phone: “I am Eleanor Vance, your wife! Arthur Davis, didn’t you used to say you’d recognize me even if I turned into the wind?! What is this? You can’t even recognize my voice now? Have you forgotten me?! Fine, give my daughter back, we’re getting a divorce!” It had been a very long time since anyone dared to speak to Arthur like that. His assistant trembled, terrified he was going to explode. Instead, Arthur’s face visibly softened. When he spoke, he sounded like he was choking back sobs. “Eleanor. Is it really you? Where are you? I’m coming to get you right now.” He looked overjoyed. A middle-aged man acting like an ecstatic boy. “And don’t you dare say the word divorce! I will never divorce you!” Eleanor sighed in exasperation. “Make sure you bring our daughter. Our Harper must be so beautiful now.” 9 Hearing that I was going to see my mother. I was delirious with joy. I wanted to sprint out the door right then and there. But as I turned. A hand yanked me back. I looked over my shoulder. It was Arthur. He stared at my face for a moment. “Let’s go together.” I paused, touching my right cheek. It was still swollen. My mother just said I must be so beautiful now. She was going to be disappointed. I wasn’t beautiful at all right now. Arthur seemed to realize this too. He ordered a maid to take me upstairs to shower and change. I refused. “No need.” Even if I wasn’t pretty right now. I didn’t want to lie to my mother. And I especially didn’t want to lie to her with Arthur. I wanted her to know that my life had been miserable these past few years. I wanted her to know that Arthur had slapped me. Arthur was silent for a few seconds, but didn’t force the issue. Before leaving, he glanced back at Chloe’s guests and frowned. He ordered his staff to see them out. Instantly, Chloe’s face turned a sickly shade of green. She walked over, looking pitiful, staring up at Arthur with wide, starry eyes. “Daddy, are you leaving? My mom is coming over soon. She said you have a weak stomach, so she made you a special dinner.” Hearing that, I almost rolled my eyes. A special dinner. The mere sight of that mother-daughter duo was enough to make anyone sick. Chloe’s mother had been in a coma from a car crash, which was why Arthur adopted Chloe. A few years later, her mother woke up. Instead of taking her daughter back, she constantly used “visiting Chloe” as an excuse to cozy up to Arthur. Arthur just gave a noncommittal “Hmm,” grabbed the car keys from his assistant, and looked at me. “Let’s go.”

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At my husband’s funeral, everyone tried to comfort me, telling me not to be sad. But I wasn’t sad. After the funeral, I worked five straight days of overtime. Reeking of the office, my mother-in-law forced me to go home and rest. She told me I had to look forward. Of course I had to look forward. I even had blind dates to go on. 1 It was my first time attending a funeral, and the main character was Liam Hayes. It felt incredibly weird. I chose the photo myself. A normally serious man, pushing his nose up to make a silly, ugly face. It was one of the very few photos where he was goofing off. I thought my mother-in-law would blame me, and that relatives and friends would say I was disrespecting the deceased, but no one seemed upset. They approached me carefully, their eyes darting away, afraid to make eye contact. So annoying. I turned my head, smiled at my husband lying in the casket, and said, “Hey, nobody told me funerals were like this?” So novel. “My condolences, Sarah,” my sister-in-law said, patting my shoulder. “My brother wouldn’t want you to be this heartbroken.” I found it funny. I earnestly searched my mind for any trace of emotion and shook my head. “I’m not heartbroken.” She sighed. “Don’t be like this. It… it makes me hurt for you.” My mother-in-law also pressed my shoulders, urging me to go rest on the side. “Mom, I’m not tired,” I said, spinning around in front of her. “Look, I’m full of energy. I could wrestle a bear.” I almost felt like this was just a normal banquet, it was just a pity I had to stand and couldn’t go down and eat. I saw the coral grouper earlier. That’s my favorite fish. I’ll definitely pack a few in plastic bags later. Oh, and the mixed salad. I heard the chef here is amazing at cold dishes, so I specifically ordered it. Grumble… My stomach growled. I rubbed my stomach and giggled foolishly. Under everyone’s sympathetic gaze, I stood for 28 hours straight, not feeling sleepy at all. Unfortunately, by the time dawn broke and the crematorium staff arrived, I still hadn’t had time to eat from that banquet table. No other reason than there were too many trivial things to deal with. I complained to the casket, “This is too much trouble. Good thing you’ll only bother me with this once. Hmph.” I chose the most expensive urn for Liam, and even put his favorite cologne inside. It was a custom-made cologne he bought casually on the street—a light, woody scent. Liam used it for many years. He said the scent was like him, gently seeping into the fabric. I didn’t understand what he meant. I just felt that even if he wore the most disgusting smell, I would still love it. What can I say? The filter of true love is strong; it even affects your sense of smell. The lid closed, and the fragrance faded. I calmly handled the final arrangements and hurried home to change clothes. I smelled terrible, so I took a long, hot bath. My boss called. “Sarah, your husband just passed. Don’t rush back to work. I’m giving you a few days off.” But corporate slaves don’t deserve rest. When I showed up at the office for overtime, my coworker, Linda, shivered. “Sarah, are you okay? Didn’t your husband…” I was very impatient. I’d been explaining to people non-stop these past few days that my husband died. How could this coworker forget again?! I stared intently at my computer, typing out a proposal. “Mr. Peterson is coming over in two days. If I don’t keep an eye on this, everyone’s year-end bonus is going to vanish.” She let out a weird yelp and ran out holding her coffee. My boss pressed down on my shoulder. “Don’t rush. The work is never-ending. You had a family tragedy; you need to take a couple of days off…” “Sigh, I’m fine. I’ve got plenty of energy.” I ran my fingers through my hair, continuously editing the proposal. He sighed, and the office returned to silence. 2 The office was dead silent. The sound of my typing grew louder and louder. It felt like there was a fire in my chest, and I didn’t know how to let it out. I wanted to slack off and look at my phone for a bit. I swiped to a funny video and wanted to share it, but suddenly remembered I had no one to share it with. I pondered for a moment, then took Liam’s phone out of my pocket and texted myself: “Wifey, wifey, why aren’t you home yet?” I replied: “Be good, the project bonus is twenty grand! Once I get the bonus, I’ll take you on a trip to Hawaii.” Much better. I put down the phone and kept typing. At 2:30 AM, I sent a text to Mr. Peterson. [Mr. Peterson, when are you available to come over and discuss the contract?] I waited ten minutes. The phone was as quiet as a mouse. I couldn’t help but call him. Mr. Peterson replied, his voice heavy with sleep, “I’ve had some family matters recently. Let’s talk in a couple of days, okay? It’s so late, Sarah, aren’t you tired?” Family matters? Could his family matters be bigger than Sarah’s family matters? I poked at my phone, furious. My husband died, and even I wasn’t as busy as him. But I couldn’t complain to a client. Since he didn’t have time, I continued to refine the proposal, typing out every minor detail I could think of, and even preparing five or six backup plans. I hadn’t slept for almost a week, but my energy was still high. The city night was silent. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window holding my coffee, looking down at the entire city. In the dark office, the faint glow from the computer screen illuminated my face. I looked at my reflection in the glass. I just passed my thirtieth birthday, and I didn’t look much older. After pulling so many all-nighters, my face hadn’t sagged, and my dark circles weren’t that bad. I marveled at myself—I truly had the innate physique of a corporate workhorse. My phone alarm went off, reminding me it was time to take my folic acid. Liam and I had been doing well in our careers recently, so we started preparing for pregnancy, getting everything ready to welcome a new life. Expressionless, I tossed the folic acid into the trash can. My chest twitched with pain, but I still wasn’t sad. Birth, aging, sickness, and death are just parts of the human experience. The office lights flicked on. My mother-in-law and my boss walked in from outside. “Sarah, I’ve asked your boss for a month of leave. You are going home to rest right now, and the company won’t let you back in.” My mother-in-law cracked her knuckles. “Don’t make me call some people to drag you back.” “Don’t worry, Sarah,” my boss assured me. “This project with Mr. Peterson is your hard work. When the contract is signed, the commission goes to you. The team has already reached a consensus.” I was too familiar with their expressions—pure sympathy. I wanted to explain that I really wasn’t sad, but after opening my mouth a few times, I finally nodded in agreement. I grabbed my car keys, ready to drive home, but my mother-in-law snatched them away. “How long has it been since you slept? Letting you drive—do you want to kill me?” My mother-in-law had kids early; she was only 55 now. Her hair wasn’t entirely white, and her well-maintained face had very few wrinkles. She was a doctor. Every day her hair was meticulously combed, and she rarely smiled. When I first met her, I was quite anxious. It was Liam who comforted me. “My mom is a great person, she just has a sharp tongue but a soft heart. Once you figure out her temper, you’ll be fine.” Then he immediately told his mom to be nicer to me, saying I wasn’t one of the interns in her department. She sat behind the steering wheel, her back straight, her glasses reflecting the streetlights. “Go home and get a good sleep. What needs to pass, will pass.” Her eyes were slightly red. The moment she looked down, she seemed utterly exhausted. The wrinkles at the corners of her eyes had deepened at some point, revealing her age. “It’s all over. He passed without pain, that’s a good thing too.” I took a deep breath, staring at the safety charm hanging from the rearview mirror. 3 I slept for less than five hours. When I woke up, my heart felt like it was being squeezed by something heavy—sour, tight, and a little painful. It scared me enough to go to the hospital for a check-up. Sinus arrhythmia. Nothing major. The doctor told me to stop staying up late. I originally wanted to go to the company, but remembering I had a month-long vacation, I suddenly felt lost. For the past few years, Liam and I rarely rested. We often complained about not having enough alone time, our lives filled to the brim with work. The week before the accident, we worked like crazy to take our annual leave early and go somewhere for a couple of days. Liam still had a half-finished itinerary on his phone. Thinking of this, I pulled out my laptop and finished the itinerary. Even after finishing it, I still felt hyperactive. The events of the past few days looped in my mind like a carousel. I touched my chest, feeling like I must be sick. Otherwise, why didn’t I know how to be sad? I looked in the mirror, trying to squeeze out a tear, but only managed an ugly, forced smile. My mom called to comfort me, subtly hinting that I shouldn’t remain a widow forever. I laughed and retorted, “What era is this? Does a woman still have to stay chaste after her husband dies?” I tossed my instant noodles onto the coffee table, turned around, and bought a premium membership on a dating site. The steam from the beef noodle soup clouded my eyes. Suddenly, the usually mild noodles tasted incredibly spicy today. I chugged the noodle broth and coughed violently from the spice. 4 Liam and I fell in love naturally; I had never been on a blind date before. The first time felt quite novel. On TV, blind dates always happened in cafes, so I arranged to meet the guy at a cafe near my house. The man who showed up was middle-aged. Not bald, not ugly, and dressed appropriately. Compared to my pajamas and slippers, his suit and tie were excessively formal. I frowned, looking him up and down. He just rubbed me the wrong way. “My situation is all in the profile. I’m 35, divorced, no kids, an executive at a multinational company, making $300k a year…” So this is what a blind date is like. I rested my chin on my hand, looking amused. “Mr. Miller, you look decent enough. Are you interested in getting double eyelid surgery? I prefer men with monolids or hidden double eyelids. I don’t have many demands; once we’re together, just get the surgery done.” He froze. He looked me up and down. “Are you sick in the head?” I felt very offended. We just met, how could he just open his mouth and insult me? He also felt offended. He stood up and left without even paying for his coffee. Cheapskate. 5 Liam’s eyes were beautiful. When he looked down at people, it always gave the illusion of deep affection. I always thought he had monolids until we got together and I realized they were hidden double eyelids. When we were intimate, my favorite thing to do was touch his eyelids. I knew exactly where the scar on the corner of his eye was. This guy wasn’t cooperative; he wasn’t my type. Liam and I used to come to this cafe all the time. On our rare days off, we would sit at this window seat. He would look at his laptop, I would read a book. Occasionally, our eyes would meet, we’d share a knowing smile, and then go back to doing our own thing. This place was like our secret base, full of memories. “Hey, I brought a stranger here,” I muttered to myself, touching the glass. When paying, I complained to the barista, “The coffee today has no flavor. Make it stronger next time.” Lately, I couldn’t taste anything. This black coffee tasted just like water. If Liam were still here, he’d probably make a huge fuss and take me to the hospital, afraid I had caught some weird disease. I couldn’t help but smile. Once, I got a paper cut. He was so terrified he took me to the hospital to get it bandaged. The doctor complained, “There’s not even any blood. If you had waited a bit longer, it would have healed itself.” I teased him about it for days. He was still self-righteous about it: “What if you got tetanus? Wouldn’t that be worse?” Walking home, I went to the ground floor to buy cologne like usual, only to find the perfume shop had become a nail salon. The layout of the perfume shop was still there, and the air still carried a faint fragrance, but the owner was nowhere to be found. I asked the nail technicians for the previous owner’s contact info, but they didn’t know. The familiar scent was fading, and a sense of panic gripped my heart.

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The girls in my senior class started a “Most Unattractive” poll. I won by a landslide. When the list circulated, my heart stopped at one name in particular: Madeline Sinclair. For six years, she had been my North Star, the girl I’d quietly adored from the shadows of the back row. Her handwriting was elegant, every loop and curve a deliberate slap in the face to the boy who had been stupid enough to confess his feelings to her just the day before. Years later, a financial news anchor interviewed Madeline, now a rising star in private equity. They asked if she had any regrets. Madeline looked directly into the camera, her expression poised but her eyes haunting. “In high school, I mistook a diamond for a piece of glass. I let someone else take him, and I’ve spent every night for seven years regretting it. Luckily, he’s single now. I’m hoping for a second chance.” The “someone else” she was referring to was currently sitting across from me at dinner. She elegantly set down her fork, pushed a perfectly sliced piece of Wagyu beef toward me, and murmured that she had to make a quick call. Out on the balcony overlooking the Seattle skyline, her voice turned to ice as she spoke into her phone. “Universal Holdings is in their Series C round, right? Call NorthStar, Solstice, and Vanguard. Tell them to pull every cent of their investment. Now.” 1 The poll was a cruel, low-tech game played in the back of a spiral notebook. When it reached my desk, the classroom went deafeningly silent. The first page was “Most Likely to Succeed/Hottest.” The second page was the “Wall of Shame.” The first category was a heated debate. The second was a consensus. My name, Jude Miller, was written over and over again. Out of twenty-one girls, seventeen had voted for me. I wasn’t delusional. I knew I wasn’t the guy people did double-takes for. I had a heavy brow, lips that were a bit too full for my face, a permanent tan from working outside, and skin that was currently losing a battle with teenage hormones. I dressed in thrift-store flannels and wore my hair in a utilitarian buzz cut. I had self-awareness. I never expected a movie-style romance, and I certainly didn’t expect Madeline Sinclair to love me back. But seeing her handwriting on that page felt like a physical blow to the stomach. We had known each other since middle school. I had loved her for every second of those six years. I just hadn’t expected her to humiliate me so publicly the day after I’d bared my soul. The confession had been an accident. I was helping my parents at our family’s small neighborhood grocery store in a rougher part of town. Madeline walked by, and I called out to her, handing her a bag of fruit. I told her her mother had already paid for it—a lie to help them out, since I knew her family was struggling after her father’s business empire collapsed. Under the dim streetlamp, her long lashes cast shadows on her cheeks. “Jude, I don’t need your charity.” She let go of the bag. I wasn’t quick enough to catch it. Apples and pears scattered across the cracked sidewalk, bruising in the dirt. Her pride was just like that fruit—fragile, easily damaged, and spread out for everyone to see. “I’m not pitying you, Maddie,” I blurted out, the words tumbling over each other. “I like you. I’ve always liked you. I just want to help.” I tried to force a casual shrug. “Every guy in school is stuffing your locker with Godiva and flowers. Is one bag of fruit really that much worse?” Three seconds passed. Maybe thirty. Time stretched until it snapped. “I’m sorry, Jude,” she said, her voice flat. “But I don’t feel that way about you.” She walked away without looking back. It was the answer I expected. I told myself it didn’t hurt. I knelt, picked up the bruised apples, wiped off the grit, and went back to work. My family lived in the part of the city where the buildings were grey and the people looked tired. Everyone here was sprinting just to stay in place. Madeline was different. She was a fallen princess, temporarily exiled to our neighborhood after her family’s mansion was foreclosed on. Before the move, no one at school knew my mother worked as a housekeeper for her family. Madeline had kept my secret, protecting my dignity. I thought my confession was a way of protecting hers—showing her that even at her lowest, she was still someone’s dream. But after that night, she didn’t just ignore me. She despised me. 2 The notebook sat on my desk, her sharp, aggressive script mocking me. I looked back at Madeline. She met my gaze with a chilling indifference. The girl who had been my sun was now a block of ice. The rest of the girls held their breath, waiting for the “ugly kid” to have a meltdown. If I showed them I was hurt, they’d won. I twirled my pen, my heart hammering against my ribs. Then, with a flourish, I wrote my own name at the bottom of the list. I turned around and flashed a grin at the room. “Hey, I’m voting for myself too. Make it eighteen.” If you want to stop a bully, you have to be the first one to laugh at the joke. That night, the girls couldn’t look me in the eye. A few of them even came up to me after class to apologize, claiming it was just a “stupid prank” and that “if your skin cleared up, you’d actually be kind of hot.” I laughed it off. Their opinions didn’t matter. Madeline’s, however, was a different story. I caught her in the alleyway behind the shops on the way home. “Maddie, wait.” She stopped but didn’t turn around. “I borrowed a copy of Jane Eyre from your library once,” I said, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. “There’s a line in there I want to give back to you: ‘Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless?’” I stepped closer. “Clearly, in your world, being unattractive means I don’t have the right to feel things. The funny thing is, none of you think you’re bad people. You cry at sad movies and tweet about social justice, but you’ll tear down a classmate for a lunch-break thrill. You never once wondered if it would hurt. You didn’t care.” I took a breath, feeling a weight lift. “I used to think you were different. I was wrong. You’re exactly like them.” I paused. “So, Madeline. I’m taking it back. My confession. My feelings. All of it.” She used to be the moon in my sky. Now, she was just another girl in a crowded room. Whether I was “ugly” or not, she wasn’t worth the devotion I’d given her. For the first time, I saw a flicker of something in her eyes—regret? Surprise?—but I was already walking away. A week later, I moved my seat to the back of the room, right next to the school’s most notorious outlier: Cassidy Vance. She was the only girl who hadn’t voted. And she was the only person Madeline Sinclair was afraid of. 3 (Madeline’s Perspective) When Madeline wrote Jude’s name in that cruel notebook, she was picturing the way he had smiled at Cassidy in the hallway. She didn’t actually think Jude was ugly. She had seen him on the rare days his skin was clear and his hair was styled. He wasn’t a classic prom king, but he had a presence. Her mother, a woman with an eye for high-end aesthetics, had once remarked that Jude had “challenging, high-fashion bones”—the kind of face that would become striking once he grew into it. But at seventeen, most girls didn’t have that kind of vision. Jude was smart, resilient, and had a dry wit that could disarm anyone. Once, when a girl teased him about his acne while he was drinking a milkshake, he’d just grinned and said, “If you want a sip, just ask. You do my chores, and I’ll buy you your own.” Madeline admired him. But she didn’t love him—or so she told herself. When he confessed to her, she panicked. Her world was ending; her father was in legal trouble, and they were broke. She couldn’t handle the weight of his “goodness.” So she pushed him away. But when she got home to the small apartment her mother was trying to make feel like a home, and saw the groceries Jude’s family had quietly left for them, guilt ate her alive. She went out to find him, to apologize, to tell him she’d been harsh. Instead, she saw him at the grocery store with Cassidy. Everyone knew Cassidy was the daughter of a billionaire, a girl who played by her own rules and made teachers tremble. Only Madeline knew the full extent of the “Vance” name. Her father had spent years trying to get an audience with Cassidy’s father, and the Vances had been the ones to let his company sink without a second thought. Cassidy’s custom Ducati was idling at the curb. She tossed a book at Jude. He caught it like it was a holy relic, his face lighting up with a genuine, brilliant smile. Cassidy—the girl who wore five-thousand-dollar boots—took an apple from his stand, wiped it on her jacket, and took a huge bite. It was the same fruit Madeline had rejected. That night, lying in a bed that felt too small in a room that smelled like old dust, Madeline stared at the window across the alley. Was Jude ugly? She decided that when he smiled at Cassidy, he was. He used to only smile like that for her. And now, the moment her family lost everything, he had found someone else to look at. 4 Two days after moving next to Cassidy, I was already regretting it. She was… difficult. When I first sat down, she was face-down on her desk, sleeping. When she finally looked up, she gave me a lazy, feline stare. “Done chasing the ice queen?” “I wasn’t chasing her,” I mumbled. Cassidy snorted. She was the only one who knew about my sketchbook—the one she’d found in the library, filled with drawings of Madeline. She had tossed it back to me with a single comment: “Zero taste.” Valentine’s Day came a few days later. The popular kids had lockers overflowing with chocolates. Madeline’s desk was a mountain of Lindt and Godiva. Cassidy walked into class, dropped a box of insanely expensive imported dark chocolate on my desk, and said, “No one at my house wants these. Don’t let them go to waste.” I pushed them back. “I’m… I’m cutting back on sugar.” Her eyes flashed. She kicked her chair back, grabbed the box, threw it into the trash can, and walked out of the room before the bell even rang. A minute later, Madeline walked over. She placed a small, plain box on my desk. “These are sugar-free,” she said softly. The class erupted in whispers. My friend Ben slid a note onto my desk: Holy shit, Jude. The Prom Queen and the Rebel Leader in one day? How? I wasn’t delusional. I knew Cassidy and Madeline didn’t “like” me. They lived in a different universe. Plus, I was the “Most Unattractive” guy in school. Madeline was only doing this because her mother had noticed the tension between us. I’d overheard her mom telling her, “Jude is a good boy. Even if you don’t love him, don’t be cruel.” As for Cassidy? I had no idea. She was a chaos agent. Her behavior started getting weirder. She’d poke my arm during lectures. She’d doodle my name in the margins of her notebooks. After school, she’d race her motorcycle alongside my bus, waving like a lunatic. She was moody. One day she’d give me rare first-edition books and share her earbuds to listen to indie tracks I’d never heard of. The next, she’d block the hallway so I couldn’t leave or lock me in the equipment room during gym class just to “talk.” Finally, I snapped. “Cassidy, what is this? These head games… do you actually like me or something?” She laughed so hard her face turned red. “Like you? God, you’re such a kid. It’s pathetic. I’m just bored, Jude. You’re like a stray dog I’m trying to train. It’s funny.” But even though she messed with me, I couldn’t hate her. Because the night of the “Ugly Poll,” when that notebook was being passed around, Cassidy had been the one to snatch it. She didn’t just read it; she ripped it into confetti and stood up in front of the whole class. “You guys have the aesthetic taste of a dumpster fire,” she’d snarled at the girls. “Is this really how you spend your time? It’s embarrassing to breathe the same air as you.” Then she’d looked at me, her eyes fierce. “And for the record, he’s not ugly. You guys are just basic.” That night, she was my hero. A hero I never thought I’d have. 5 Cassidy was an enigma. She skipped class whenever she wanted, yet she somehow stayed at the top of the rankings. My first impression of her was that she was just a rich girl looking for a thrill. I’d seen her at a music festival over the summer, drenching people with a water gun and laughing like a maniac. She’d accidentally soaked me, then insisted I hop on her Ducati so the wind would dry my clothes. But then, I saw her on the sports channel. I was eating dinner when a broadcast of the National Shooting Championships came on. There she was. Cassidy Vance. Her arms were rock-steady as she lifted a competition air rifle. Her expression was focused, cold, and utterly professional. She was a different person. I held my breath as she squeezed the trigger, hitting the bullseye with terrifying precision. “Mrs. Miller?” Madeline was at our house for dinner again. She stood up abruptly. “My dad is coming home from the hospital tonight. We need help moving some furniture. Could Jude come over for a minute?” It was a lie. There was no furniture to move. As soon as I stepped into her apartment, she locked the door and backed me against the wall. “Jude, is this what it takes? She gets on TV and suddenly you’re obsessed?” her voice was trembling. “Do you know what people are saying? That you and Cassidy were ‘locked’ in the equipment room for an hour? Do you really think you belong in her world?” She stepped closer, her perfume—something expensive and floral—filling my lungs. “She doesn’t even have to take the SATs. She’s going to an Ivy League school on a legacy ticket or moving to Europe. You’re just a distraction to her. When she’s bored, she’ll leave. What happens to your reputation then?” My phone buzzed. A voice note from Cassidy. [Hey, Neighbor. Did you see me on TV? Was I a total badass or what? I’m outside your place. Come out. Let’s get tacos.] The walls in these old apartments were thin. We both heard it. My mom’s voice drifted from the hallway: “Oh, hi! Jude is just across the hall helping Madeline.” Silence followed. Then, the low rumble of a motorcycle engine. A text popped up: [Get out here. Now. Alleyway.] Madeline moved even closer, her face inches from mine. She looked desperate. “Jude,” she whispered, “don’t go. Please.” 6 When I reached the alley, Cassidy was leaning against her bike, her helmet tucked under her arm. Her eyes were like flint. “Get on.” She drove like a woman possessed. We hit eighty on the Pacific Coast Highway, the salt air stinging my eyes. She didn’t stop until we reached a secluded stretch of beach. She dragged me toward the water, her grip like iron. “Cassidy, what the hell is wrong with you?” I shouted, finally wrenching my arm away. She spun around, towering over me in her boots. “She kissed you, didn’t she?”

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My younger sister snapped a photo while sitting on the hood of my Porsche. “Driving a Porsche at 23, but I still don’t feel happy.” After this humblebrag went viral, her DMs were flooded with messages from eager suitors. She paraded around a million-dollar Louis Vuitton bag gifted by one of these admirers, flaunting it in my face. “Sister, I hinted that he should buy me a million-dollar car, but he got me a million-dollar bag instead. What goes on in the minds of these clueless guys?” I kindly warned her: “Is it possible that dealerships don’t sell fake cars?” She immediately blasted me on social media, claiming her own flesh and blood was jealous of her success. I was relentlessly cyberbullied by her male fans and had no choice but to delete all my accounts. She accepted the proposal of a “wealthy heir,” showing off hands covered in gold jewelry, her expression arrogant and triumphant: “Don’t tell me there are still girls out there who haven’t received gold from their boyfriends? No way, right?” But the internet hit back hard, exposing her gold as cheap knockoffs. By that time, she had already stolen her ID, secretly married the “heir,” and gotten pregnant. The damage was irreversible. Our parents were scammed out of their life savings by their supposed “golden son-in-law” and tragically committed suicide by carbon monoxide poisoning. My sister blamed me for everything. In a fit of rage, she pushed me off the roof of a 28-story building. “If you hadn’t let me use your Porsche for that photo, I never would have met that loser, and Mom and Dad wouldn’t have been scammed!” When I opened my eyes again, I was right back to the moment she went viral for flexing with my Porsche. 1 “When is it my turn to drive a Porsche at 23?! I am going to war with you rich people!” I opened my eyes, staring blankly at a gossip aggregator account I had randomly scrolled past. My sister was sitting on the hood of my Porsche, pouting her lips for the camera. The comments were a sea of envy, and the post already had a hundred thousand likes. The top comment read: “Wow, whose little princess is out here humblebragging?” My sister replied below: “Not at all, I feel like I’m just from an ordinary family. I just can’t find an older guy who’s willing to spoil me~” In my past life, when I accidentally discovered she was using my Porsche for photos, I advised her to keep a low profile and not expose too much about our supposed family wealth on a public platform. But my sister dismissed my concerns, thinking I was just being a nosy busybody. “Sister, what do you know? I’m building an internet persona. It’s just for marketing.” “You’re not going to be petty and expose me, are you?” Figuring I couldn’t coddle her forever, I decided to let her forge her own path. Seeing her attitude, I didn’t say anything else, just reminded her to be careful. My sister was busy recording a new video on her phone and brushed me off carelessly: “I know, I know! You’re so annoying!” But to my surprise, a few days later, I found a gift box outside the door of our apartment. While I was wondering who left it there, my sister rushed out of her room and snatched the box, cradling it like a precious treasure. “Don’t touch it! It’s a gift from my ‘brother’!” That’s when I realized she hadn’t just asked a “sugar daddy” for gifts on her livestream—she had actually given out my apartment address! My sister didn’t care about my safety at all. Her face was flushed with the sheer thrill of receiving a gift. She eagerly tore off the wrapping, pulled out a handbag, and held it up to inspect it. I recognized it as a new release from Louis Vuitton, valued at roughly a million dollars. My sister slung the bag over her shoulder, twirling in front of the mirror, absolutely captivated by her own reflection. Turning back and catching me staring at her, she dramatically furrowed her brow, feigning distress: “Sister, I hinted that he should buy me a million-dollar car, but he got me a million-dollar bag instead. What goes on in the minds of these clueless guys?” I frowned, looking closely at the bag, and offered a warning: “Is it possible that dealerships don’t sell fake cars?” My sister froze. When the implication hit her, she dropped the bag, put her hands on her hips, and glared at me furiously. “What is that supposed to mean?! Just because you’re a washed-up old hag who can’t get any gifts, you’re jealous of me?! Have you ever even seen real luxury goods? What gives you the right to call this a fake!” Seeing that she was completely unreachable, I decided not to waste my breath. My sister let out a cold snort, turned, and marched away, a flash of pure malice crossing her eyes. The very next day, I was trending online—for all the wrong reasons. In a tearful video, my sister sobbed, claiming I was deeply jealous of the fact that she was born with everything, and that she now had a boyfriend who spoiled her endlessly. “Wuu-wuu… I don’t know why my sister would say those things. I just wanted to share my normal dating experiences with her.” My sister claimed I deliberately called her gift a fake to sabotage her relationship with her boyfriend. She spun a narrative that I was green with envy over her happiness and was trying to steal her man! I was labeled a shameless homewrecker. The cyberbullying from her male fans escalated until it affected my real life. Out of sheer desperation, I was forced to issue a public apology and delete all my social media accounts. Seeing how easily she crushed me only fueled my sister’s arrogance, which ultimately paved the way for a massive disaster. In my past life, I ran myself ragged trying to clear my name. This time, I wasn’t going to be that stupid. Snapping back to the present, I saw my sister preening with the bag in front of me. I didn’t offer any advice. I just smiled faintly: “That’s nice.” My sister looked even more smug. “Of course it is! You wouldn’t even dare to touch a brand like this, would you? Once I marry my wealthy heir, I can have as many of these bags as I want!” “Jealous? Too bad you don’t have my luck. You’re just a spinster nobody wants!” She clutched the bag to her chest, humming a tune as she retreated to her bedroom. 2 Having tasted the sweetness of viral fame, my sister doubled down on her livestreams, desperately cultivating her “rich heiress” persona. I used the excuse of not wanting to disturb her to retreat to my room and process the fact that I had been reborn. In my past life, it all started with this fake designer bag. My sister became entirely convinced the guy was a legitimate millionaire. She used every trick in the book to siphon money from me to maintain her fake heiress lifestyle, obsessively focused on landing her “golden goose.” By the time I caught on, she had secretly drained every cent of the retirement fund I had set aside for our parents. Remembering this, I immediately contacted the bank and transferred all my funds to a new account my sister knew nothing about. This time around, she wouldn’t get a single penny from me! Sure enough, a few days later, my sister stormed up to me, shoving her phone screen aggressively in my face. “Why is there absolutely zero money in the bank account?! Did you use it for something shady?!” I glanced at her phone. It was a failed payment notification due to insufficient funds. The item in her cart was a luxury watch priced at over a hundred thousand dollars. I clicked my tongue in disbelief. She really had no concept of the value of money when she wasn’t the one earning it. I replied calmly, “That’s Mom and Dad’s retirement fund. Why are you monitoring it?” My sister shot me a dirty look. “What retirement fund? That’s my dowry from Mom and Dad!” “I’m an influencer with a million followers! All my fans are watching me. My dowry needs to be at least five million just to match my status!” “If you don’t give it to me, are you trying to ruin my career?” “Transfer the money to me immediately, do you hear me? Ugh, I don’t have time for this, I have to go on a date with my boyfriend!” My sister demanded I transfer the money ASAP, claiming she needed it urgently, then sprinted down the stairs in her stilettos. I stood by the window and watched her climb into a luxury car parked outside our building. I didn’t expect them to meet up this quickly, fueled by her aggressive livestreaming campaign. Transferring the money was, of course, out of the question. Let’s see how long it takes her to realize her “billionaire” has a few red flags when she doesn’t have my wallet to fall back on. 3 My sister didn’t come home that night. The next day, she posted a new video. The video was a blinding display of gold jewelry reflecting harshly in the camera flash. A massive gold bangle encircled her wrist, chunky gold rings adorned all ten of her fingers, and a heavy gold pendant hung around her neck. She smugly declared that these were just “little trinkets” her boyfriend casually picked up for her. “Don’t tell me there are still girls out there who haven’t received gold from their boyfriends? No way, right?” “Money is just a string of numbers to me.” She then proudly announced that she had a five-million-dollar dowry ready to go, proving she wasn’t after his money. She claimed she was merely documenting their romance. The video exploded instantly, with comment sections flooded by envious viewers. My sister basked in the attention. “I just wanted to test if he really loved me. I didn’t expect him to care so much. I’m so moved~” However, amidst the praise, doubts began to surface. Several professionals pointed out that the color of the gold was off and lacked the required hallmarks, strongly suggesting they were fake. Some users even began questioning the authenticity of her “rich heiress” persona. My sister panicked. She posted a rapid-fire sequence of seven or eight videos, meticulously filming her jewelry from every conceivable angle. “Are you kidding me? Have some of you seriously never seen real gold before? Given my family background, why would I ever buy fakes?” “How does this look fake? The color is perfect! Let me guess—your boyfriends refuse to buy you any, so you come here calling mine fake? Don’t be sour grapes.” “Wow, I really didn’t expect so many people to be jealous of me. Honestly, my background is just average, it’s just that my boyfriend spoils me too much and insisted on buying all this gold. I really couldn’t stop him.” After this aggressive, high-profile defense, she doubled down, announcing a livestream event to broadcast her extravagant wedding to silence the haters. “This weekend, my boyfriend and I are hosting the wedding of the century at a luxury hotel! It’s not too extravagant, we only spent a few million on it!” “I welcome all my fans to join us, and the haters better watch closely! I’ll prove my status with cold, hard cash!” She sounded incredibly confident, but I hadn’t given her a dime. Where was she getting the money? 4 I hadn’t given her the five million, so I honestly had no idea where her funding was coming from. Nevertheless, I brought our parents to attend her so-called “wedding of the century.” When we arrived at the grand banquet hall, my sister was standing alone on the stage in a wedding gown, livestreaming the event. I pulled up the stream on my phone. The viewership was massive, the screen flooded with congratulatory messages. But as time dragged on, the audience realized something was wrong. My sister had been livestreaming for an hour, and the groom was nowhere to be found. The envious comments gradually morphed into skepticism. “What’s going on? Has the groom still not shown up? The wedding was supposed to start a long time ago, right?” “We’ve been waiting to see this billionaire boyfriend, but the groom pulled a runaway bride?” “Is this the ‘status’ the streamer was bragging about?” Anxiety crept onto my sister’s face. She frantically sent messages on her phone, a sheen of sweat breaking out on her forehead. Our parents looked worried, and I offered a few words of mild comfort. That “wealthy heir” had probably skipped town a long time ago. I smiled, watching my sister panic on stage, curious to see how she would try to spin this disaster. “Of course not! My boyfriend suddenly received an urgent notice to attend an international summit abroad.” “A real man must prioritize his career! Career-driven men are the most attractive!” “As his supportive partner, I obviously can’t let him worry about things back home!” She put her phone away, turning the screen toward the camera to display her chat history. The man on the other end claimed he had to rush to catch an international flight and sent my sister a digital red envelope containing $520. “Thank you all for coming! Please enjoy the food and drinks! I have plenty of money!” The guests in the hall exchanged bewildered glances. I frowned; the prices at this hotel were notoriously exorbitant. Where exactly was her money coming from? I glanced down at the livestream. Just as I suspected, the internet wasn’t buying it. The chat was a wall of insults. “What kind of garbage is this? Abandoning his fiancée at the altar, and you call him a good boyfriend?” “The streamer isn’t a rich heiress at all, is she? Her boyfriend is probably dead broke too.” Seeing the backlash, my sister shrieked in desperation. “What do you guys know?! I’m pregnant with his family’s eldest grandson! They’re transferring two properties into my name tomorrow!” “You know those luxury yachts overseas? Once I deliver the eldest grandson, my husband is going to buy me one so I can throw parties on it! I’ll invite all my fans to come hang out!” The moment she said that, my parents, sitting next to me, gripped my hands tightly. “Is what your sister saying true?! Is she really pregnant?!” “How can this be happening? We haven’t even met the guy!” Before I could even attempt to explain, my sister overheard our parents from the stage. She lifted her chin in disdain. “Stop being so traditional, okay? You two dinosaurs need to understand this is called modern love!” “Of course it’s true! This is a massive blessing!” “Just wait until I marry into that billionaire family!” My sister lovingly cradled her flat stomach, her face glowing with pride, acting as if she were already the star of a high-society wedding. She continued to recklessly boast to her fans about the “million-dollar” wedding dress she was wearing. Did she honestly believe she could secure a billionaire husband just by getting pregnant? I shook my head at my sister’s impenetrable delusion, took my bewildered parents by the arms, and we left. 5 After ensuring my parents were settled at home, I returned to work. But two days later, I was ambushed outside my office building. A cup of iced coffee was violently thrown directly into my face. Caught completely off guard, I was drenched. “I don’t know what kind of sick, twisted heart you have! You just can’t stand to see your sister happy, can you?” “To resort to such a venomous, disgusting scheme… are you even Mia’s biological sister?!” Frowning, I signaled the security guards to remove the woman, who was still screaming a barrage of insults. I immediately dialed my sister’s number, but she declined the call. I had no choice but to search for news about her online. That’s when I discovered she had launched a public crusade against me. “I never imagined my own sister would secretly swap out my gold jewelry. You all know the backlash and abuse I received because of that incident… I had no idea the mastermind behind it all was my own sister.” “My sister hated studying since she was little. She threw tantrums and forced our parents to let her drop out so she could go ‘work.’ When she hit a wall in the real world, she started pressuring our parents to force me out into society to ‘build character.’” “She argued that it was unfair for me to stay in school while she had to struggle in the real world.” She spun my years of hard work and hustle into a sleazy narrative of sleeping my way to the top, while painting herself as the tragic, bullied victim. “Because my sister disapproved of my relationship, she swapped my bridal gold and illegally withheld my dowry. My boyfriend felt disrespected by our family and left in anger to attend his international conference.” “What about me? What did I do wrong?! Why are you doing this to me?!” My sister wept on camera, claiming I had deliberately destroyed her happiness. Her fans swallowed the lie whole. They swarmed my accounts, attacking me viciously while offering her endless sympathy and comfort. “You really can’t judge a book by its cover. Who would have thought her own flesh and blood could be so evil?” “Oh my god, if it were me, I would absolutely despise that sister!” “Is she really that bitter just seeing someone else happy? What a vile, old witch!”

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Chapter 1 While attending a high-end auction with my best friend, I accidentally witnessed my husband—Arthur Sterling, the notoriously ruthless and supposedly devoted heir to the Sterling empire—win a fierce bidding war for a necklace I had admired for months. Yet, the very next day, that exact necklace was resting against the collarbone of his stunningly beautiful new intern. I didn’t cry. I didn’t cause a scene. I simply made a phone call to my contact at the boutique, purchased two hundred identical custom necklaces, and had them delivered to the women’s dormitory at NYU. If he wanted to play the generous benefactor, I’d gladly help him out. I made sure he gave enough gifts to last a lifetime. While I was at it, I had my lawyer friend draft a divorce agreement and had it delivered straight to his desk. On that day, every single girl in Dormitory 1 at NYU received a lavish gift from the CEO’s wife of Sterling Tech. Everyone, except Chloe Vance. … When Arthur Sterling walked into the gala with Chloe Vance on his arm, the party was at its peak. The young, alluring girl clung intimately to Arthur’s arm, her face glowing with a radiant, victorious smile. The crowd surrounding me instantly parted, their faces painted with a mix of pity and awkward amusement. Even I was genuinely surprised that Arthur had the audacity to parade her around at a public event. Ours was an arranged marriage uniting two of the most powerful families in New York. I had assumed he would at least have the decency to save my face. But I was wrong. “What’s with the silence, everyone? Are you all mesmerized by Arthur’s new secretary?” I stepped up and offered the explanation myself. The crowd breathed a collective sigh of relief, murmuring in understanding. Arthur approached me, acting as if absolutely nothing was wrong, and softly called out, “Mia.” Chloe followed suit, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “Hi, sister.” Fighting back the urge to gag, I offered them a polite, elegant smile. We were all adults; there was no need to wear our emotions on our sleeves. Besides, in our social circle, the most crucial survival skill was knowing how to put on a mask. You smile when you’re furious. You act affectionate when you’re disgusted. And more importantly, given who Arthur Sterling was, throwing a tantrum here wouldn’t benefit anyone. However, seeing that specific necklace gleaming on Chloe’s neck finally extinguished any remaining warmth in my heart. Just ten minutes ago, I had watched Arthur gently, patiently tuck a stray strand of hair behind Chloe’s ear before carefully pulling her slipped dress strap back into place. Yesterday, when I saw him walking out of the auction house, I had foolishly believed the necklace was for me. A sweet, naive thrill had bloomed in my chest, and I spent the rest of the day eagerly anticipating my surprise. This morning, I had even gone to the salon for a blowout and hired a makeup artist to make sure I looked perfect for the occasion. But hours passed, my styling was done, and the gift never arrived. I had even called him, dropping subtle hints, trying to gauge if he had a surprise waiting for me. The answer was no. But before he hung up, I heard a sweet, whining female voice in the background: “Mr. Sterling, won’t your wife be upset if she finds out?” “No. She’s always been mature and understanding. She won’t mind.” In that exact moment, I realized how painfully naive I had been. Arthur Sterling had probably been dirty for a long time. He was right about one thing: I was mature and understanding. Getting into a catfight with a cheap little homewrecker was beneath me. Chloe trailed closely behind Arthur. She was smiling sweetly at me, but the arrogance and provocation in her eyes were glaringly obvious. I sneered internally. She was just a clueless college student if she actually thought Arthur took her seriously. Staring directly at her neck, I drawled, “That’s a beautiful necklace. A gift from someone special?” Chloe wasn’t stupid. She understood exactly what I was implying. Chapter 2 A broke college student couldn’t afford jewelry of that caliber. Chloe shot me a look of feigned shock before turning to Arthur with an expression that perfectly blended shyness and panic. Right on cue, Arthur stepped in to defend her. “Mia, don’t misunderstand. Chloe had a rough time during her internship this week. As her boss, buying her a little gift to cheer her up is normal. There’s nothing going on between us.” I raised my champagne glass to him, smiling as if I completely understood, then turned away to make a quick phone call to my assistant. A moment later, Arthur’s phone rang, and he stepped aside to take the call. A familiar socialite sauntered over, pretending to make small talk before slyly asking who Chloe was. I wasn’t an idiot. Her question was dripping with mockery. The crowd wasn’t blind. Everyone had seen how fiercely Arthur was protecting the young girl. I answered without skipping a beat, stripping away all the pleasantries. “Probably just a delusional homewrecker trying to sleep her way to the top.” The blood instantly drained from Chloe’s face. She looked utterly humiliated and deeply wronged. Her big, beautiful eyes immediately welled up with tears. What a tragic, innocent little victim. Truly heartbreaking. No wonder Arthur liked her. The socialite clearly hadn’t expected me to be so brutally honest. Recognizing she was out of her depth, she awkwardly excused herself. I crossed my arms, looking Chloe up and down with an amused smirk. “Miss Vance, right? At your age, you should be focusing on your textbooks, studying for your finals, or preparing for grad school. Stop living in a fantasy world. If you keep playing this game, you’re going to lose your dignity and your reputation.” She knew I was humiliating her. Her lips trembled, but she couldn’t formulate a single word. I scoffed internally. Just because I played the role of the elegant, understanding wife didn’t mean I was a doormat she could walk all over. “Sister, I…” “Stop right there,” I interrupted, raising a hand. “My mother only had one child. I don’t have a sister. And we live in the 21st century; the era of concubines calling the wife ‘sister’ is long gone.” Chloe’s tears started falling faster. I was about to deliver another verbal blow when Arthur returned. He walked straight up to me, skipping the pleasantries. “Did you order those necklaces?” My assistant works fast. I nodded smoothly. “Yes.” “Why did you order so many? You don’t even wear that style.” I leaned casually against a marble pillar, my tone teasing. “I’m doing you a favor, darling. College kids have it rough these days. Internships are exhausting. I figured I’d buy them all a little something to boost morale.” Arthur’s perpetually unreadable expression finally cracked. But he quickly masked it. He had always been a master of hiding his emotions. He smoothly slipped his arm around my waist, pulling me close, and whispered affectionately in my ear. “It’s just a necklace. If you liked it, I can buy you another one. I don’t care if you scare the interns, but I’d hate to see you get so upset over nothing.” His voice was deep and husky, just like it had been during countless intimate nights. His breath brushed against my ear. In the past, it was a move meant for seduction. Now, it was a calculated tactic to extract Chloe from the mess she was in. I yielded to his grip, placing my hand on his back, and used the leverage to pull him even closer. Matching his tone, I whispered back: “You know exactly what Chloe is trying to do. This isn’t just about the necklace. Arthur, I never cared about your little flings in the past. But don’t forget, I am Mrs. Sterling now. If this blows up, it damages both of us.” “What happened today—I expect it to be the last time.” I delivered the final sentence through gritted teeth. It was a genuine threat. Chapter 3 Amidst the clinking glasses and chatter, the other guests assumed we were just flirting. A wave of good-natured teasing erupted around us. I felt him tense up. I gave his back a light, patronizing pat. Then, I turned, grabbed a fresh glass of champagne, and walked away. When the gala finally wound down and the guests began to leave, I thought I had made myself perfectly clear. My disgust couldn’t have been more obvious. But I had severely underestimated how utterly shameless some people could be. As we were heading out, Chloe insisted on riding in Arthur’s car with us. “Chloe’s dorm is far, and it’s impossible to get an Uber right now. It’s on our way, so I’m just dropping her off.” That was Arthur’s excuse. It was a pathetic, transparent lie, and I called him out immediately. “The dorms are in Brooklyn, and our penthouse is in Manhattan. How exactly is that ‘on our way’?” Arthur’s brow furrowed in visible annoyance, while Chloe looked at me with big, teary eyes. The tableau made it look like I was the villain needlessly bullying a helpless girl. Seeing my refusal to play along, Arthur tried the emotional manipulation route. “Mia, you’ve always been so reasonable…” I cut him off before he could finish. “And if I say no?” Chloe stepped toward me, her eyes red. “Sister, I shouldn’t have taken the necklace you liked. Tonight was my fault. But I really can’t get a ride right now…” “I’ll trade you my favorite perfume for it, okay?” She held out an exquisitely packaged perfume bottle. Judging by the luxury branding, it was clearly another gift from Arthur. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. “What does that even smell like? Desperation and cheap tea?” The relentless humiliation finally made Chloe’s face flush a deep, angry crimson. She stood there, awkwardly holding back tears. Arthur, who had maintained his gentlemanly facade all night, finally snapped. His voice was low and dangerous. “Mia, you’re crossing the line.” I scoffed. “This is crossing the line?” “Arthur, don’t forget who hosted this gala tonight. Without my father pulling strings for you, your new merger is dead in the water.” Without waiting for his response, I shoved past the weeping Chloe and got into the car. He was a businessman above all else. He knew how to weigh the pros and cons. He knew exactly what my threat meant. He might be aloof and arrogant, but I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth too. I was raised to be a titan, not a trophy wife. In the corporate world, emotions have very little value. In the end, he got into the car with me. We drove in suffocating silence. I couldn’t care less about fighting a naive college girl over a man. But my status in our social circle meant I couldn’t allow myself to be humiliated. Rumors about Arthur Sterling leaving his wife on the sidewalk for an intern would be a PR disaster. However, when I realized the passenger seat had been readjusted, I had to admit my tolerance for disrespect had a limit. This clueless little girl had managed to push my buttons. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who had messed with my seat. Stuck to the passenger side window control was a bright pink sticky note: “Princess Parking Only.” A surge of blind rage hit me. I wanted nothing more than to kick the man next to me out of a moving vehicle, drive back to the venue, and slap Chloe Vance across the face. Just as I was about to detonate, a phone rang. Chloe’s sobbing voice filled the quiet car. “Arthur… sob… I couldn’t get a cab. I think someone is following me. I’m so scared. Can you come get me…?” Arthur didn’t hesitate for a fraction of a second. He slammed on the brakes, pulling the car violently to the shoulder. He spoke in a frantic, soothing voice. “Okay, don’t panic. Stay exactly where you are. I’m coming to get you.” My hand, which had been reaching to adjust my seat, froze. I turned to look at him in absolute disbelief. Arthur frowned. “Mia, take a cab home. Chloe might be in real danger. I have to go to her.” I let out a harsh, incredulous laugh. “We’re in the middle of 5th Avenue. It’s packed with people. There’s a police precinct three blocks from NYU. What kind of danger could she possibly be in?” “Are you her father? If she’s in danger, she should call 911, not you!” Chapter 4 Arthur was rendered speechless by my logic. He closed his eyes in frustration, took a deep breath, and opened them again. “Mia, you’re both women. Can you show a little empathy?” “Are you really going to hold a grudge over a single necklace?” I refused to yield an inch. “Are you blind, Arthur? She’s blatantly provoking me, and you can’t see it? You’re going to abandon your wife on the street for an outsider?” The emotions in Arthur’s eyes shifted rapidly—from anger, to coldness, and finally, to profound disappointment. “Mia, when did you become so irrational and demanding? You used to be better than this.” I scoffed. I’m irrational? “Arthur, this is the first time you’ve ever fought with me over another woman.” Arthur turned his head sharply to stare out the window, clearly signaling he was done with the conversation. “Did you forget our prenuptial agreement? We agreed that even if there was no love between us, there would be mutual respect. You don’t humiliate me with mistresses, and I don’t embarrass you with scandals. This isn’t just about us; it’s about the Sterling and the Harrison families. Are you really going to break the rules for her?” The only sound in the quiet car was Arthur’s heavy breathing. I knew he was wavering. In this tedious, pointless game of tug-of-war, I had won the first round. That night, Arthur and I slept in separate rooms. His excuse was that I was being too aggressive, that I was suffocating him, and that he needed space for both of us to cool down. Fine. It gave me the space I needed to seriously re-evaluate our relationship. Lying in bed, the events of the day replayed in my mind. It was the first time Arthur had ever compromised my dignity for another woman. The Sterlings and the Harrisons were old family friends, but Arthur and I had barely interacted growing up. I only knew the eldest Sterling heir through the brief, dismissive comments made by my elders. The general consensus was that he was a spoiled, useless playboy coasting on his family’s wealth. But at our families’ matchmaking dinner three years ago, I had to admit, I was captivated by his unique charisma. Beneath his handsome, sharp exterior was a sharp, witty mind, and he handled complex situations with effortless grace. So, when our parents suggested marriage, I agreed. With our matching backgrounds and education, there was a strong mutual respect. We finalized the engagement quickly. I hadn’t factored “love” or “feelings” into the equation. Growing up in a corporate dynasty, the first lesson you learn is cost-benefit analysis. After the wedding, we maintained our separate stock portfolios, but our families executed a massive corporate merger, and our respective businesses skyrocketed. I always believed that Arthur and I were simply the most optimal, logical choices for each other. But at some point, he had seemingly started to fall for me. The arrogant, untouchable heir of the Sterling empire would hold me in the middle of the night, whispering sweet nothings and burying his face in my neck like a giant, affectionate dog. In the dead of winter, he would warm my freezing feet inside his own pajamas. When I had terrible cramps, he would personally brew me ginger tea. When it rained, he would tilt the umbrella entirely over me, completely ignoring the fact that his own shoulder was getting soaked. Just a few months ago, he had told me, “Mia, you will always be my first choice.” But the moment Chloe Vance appeared, everything changed in the blink of an eye. After years of navigating the cutthroat corporate world, this was the first time I felt truly, deeply exhausted. My phone buzzed. A WeChat message from Arthur: “Goodnight, Mia.” Followed by a cute sticker of a cartoon cat patting another cat’s head. Chapter 5 That was Arthur. Even in the middle of a cold war, he maintained his flawless poker face. Even when we were fighting, he played the role of the perfect husband to the letter. I had a bit of a headache from the champagne, so I went to the kitchen to pour a glass of milk. But when I reached for my favorite ceramic mug, I noticed a hairline fracture near the handle. I summoned the housekeeper and demanded to know who had touched it. The housekeeper trembled. “We don’t know, ma’am! You gave strict orders that we were never to wash this mug. None of the staff have touched it.” She was right. I had given that order. For my birthday last year, Arthur had commissioned this piece from my favorite master ceramicist. He had flown out of his way to Germany during a business trip just to pick it up. I cherished it deeply. But now, it was damaged. The housekeeper nervously asked if I wanted her to send it out for repairs. I said no. Because it was so precious, even the smallest flaw was unacceptable. A few minutes later, I pulled up the kitchen security footage on my phone. The video showed Chloe picking up my mug, flashing a malicious smirk, and intentionally dropping it into the stainless steel sink. Arthur actually brought her to our home. The necklace yesterday had annoyed me because it was a waste of a beautiful piece of jewelry. Chloe lacked the class to wear it; putting it on her was like draping silk over a pig. But coming into my home, breaking my things, and throwing a tantrum on my territory? That was a blatant, unforgivable declaration of war. A blinding rage erupted in my chest, burning away every ounce of my rationality. With a violent sweep of my arm, I sent the precious ceramic mug crashing to the floor, shattering it into a million pieces. And along with it, my marriage to Arthur Sterling shattered too. I walked back into my bedroom and dialed my lawyer. “Hey, Julian. Draft a divorce agreement for me. I need it ASAP.” I am Mia Harrison. If a cup is cracked, I smash it completely. And if a man is dirty, I throw him out. When I woke up the next morning, Arthur was nowhere to be found. The staff told me he had taken a phone call and rushed out in a panic. Another crisis with Chloe, I assume. I showered, ate breakfast, and drove myself to work. As I was walking into the corporate headquarters, a young girl collided with me. The hot congee she was holding spilled entirely over the skirt of my dress. She panicked, stammering frantic apologies while desperately trying to wipe the stain off my dress with a crumpled tissue. I was about to instinctively say it was fine, but the girl suddenly dropped to her knees, grabbing my arm and begging for forgiveness. Even though it was the middle of summer, she was wearing a worn-out, heavy winter coat. Her face was smudged with dirt, but her bone structure was striking. When she looked up at me, a strange sense of familiarity hit me, but I couldn’t place her face. I ignored her bizarre, dramatic display and gestured for the security guards to escort her away. But as I reached into my bag for a wet wipe, I realized my phone was gone. Instantly understanding what had just happened, I grabbed the girl by the arm, reached into the pocket of her heavy coat, and pulled out my phone. The sheer audacity made my blood boil. The girl finally seemed to realize she was in serious trouble. She stayed on her knees, sobbing and begging me to let her go. I stared down at her with absolute disgust and signaled the guards to drag her away. “Learn to have some self-respect. Being born poor isn’t your fault, but you have two hands and two feet. You don’t have to resort to being a thief.” Right at that moment, Arthur stepped out of his car across the street and witnessed the entire scene. Across the busy avenue, the look he gave me was filled with nothing but cold, judgmental distance.

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Before my sister left the country, she left me with two male succubi. One acted like a saint all day, the other was as sweet-tongued as honey. I poured my heart out, treating them with every kindness. But the moment my sister announced her return, they started b brawling next door, desperate to go back to her side. They even called me a “clingy pest” they couldn’t shake off. My immediate response to my sister? A swift “1.” Aren’t the new, exotic succubi more appealing? Who still cares for these two rejects? 1 The ear-splitting argument from next door had me utterly frozen. My phone screen glowed, displaying a message from my sister, received half a minute ago. “Autumn, haven’t you gotten tired of those two succubi yet?” “Your big sis found a new one for you abroad. Tall, strong stamina. If you want him, reply with a ‘1’.” My mind was a chaotic mess, yet my fingers seemed to have a will of their own, automatically tapping out a ‘1’. The phone rang almost instantly. I fumbled to answer it. On the screen, my sister’s smile was blindingly bright. It was still broad daylight where she was, the sunlight stinging my eyes. Seeing her familiar face, my nose suddenly ached, and tears began to stream down my cheeks. It was only at this moment that I finally understood: the succubi I’d nurtured for so long held no place for me in their hearts. Neither of them did. “Oh, what’s wrong? Who’s been bothering my precious little sister? Is it Lysander or Lyall?” My sister sounded frantic on the other end, practically wishing she could climb through the phone line. I wiped away my tears, a shaky laugh bubbling up. “Sis, their names are Lysander and Lyall.” My sister clearly didn’t care that she’d mixed up their names, her brow furrowed in a tight knot. “Who cares what those things are called, they’re just succubi. Who upset you? Your sister will book a flight back right now to sort them out.” I shook my head, quickly changing the subject, not wanting her to worry. “No one, they’re actually quite good to me. By the way, where’s that new succubus you mentioned?” My sister’s grin was mischievous as she walked to the next room, phone in hand. “My little sis is finally coming out of her shell, huh? I remember you used to be so shy. I was worried you couldn’t handle the two I left you back then.” My face flushed, but my heart was heavy with bitterness. In truth, nothing had happened between us for the first six months after my sister left. They were incredibly well-behaved then, bringing me tea and water every day, like premium housekeepers. It wasn’t until three months ago, when I’d had too much to drink at a friend’s gathering, that Lysander, the older brother, took care of me. Facing that face, too handsome to be human, I truly felt a stir in my heart. Fueled by alcohol, we drew closer. That night, Lysander was exceptionally… attentive. Once a succubus had a taste, they couldn’t stay away. From then on, Lysander was in my room every night. Initially, Lyall, the younger brother, would watch the show from the sidelines, often making me blush intensely. But as he saw Lysander and me growing closer, his expression grew darker by the day. 2 Half a month later, he finally couldn’t hold it in anymore. He climbed into my bed, declaring that there shouldn’t be favoritism. Lyall was even clingier than his brother, confessing his affection multiple times a day, wanting to be glued to me twenty-four-seven. They often squabbled for my attention, and I used to find it rather sweet. I thought we would just continue living like that. Until the day before yesterday, when my sister called, saying she’d be back next week. I immediately heard the sound of a shattering glass in the living room. I looked up to see Lysander frowning as he swept the floor. Lyall had dropped a milk glass, and both their expressions were strangely off. From that evening on, they stopped coming into my room. At the time, I was too excited about my sister’s return to think much of it. It wasn’t until just now, when I vaguely heard arguing from next door. “You’re not even bothering to pretend anymore? Autumn slept alone again today.” Lysander’s voice was as cool and restrained as ever, sounding particularly ascetic. “Aren’t you the same? Sister Leigh is coming back. Of course, I need to wash off that clingy scent, so she doesn’t find me distasteful.” Lyall said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 3 Lysander seemed to be losing his patience. “Why are you in such a hurry? If we both leave, what if she goes crazy and bothers Sister Leigh? You stay here and keep an eye on things. I’ll come get you in a bit.” Lyall exploded. “Brother, you’re truly a hypocrite. If you want to stay, you stay. I’m going back first. If you leave, that annoying clingy girl, Autumn Clarke, definitely won’t let me go.” Their voices grew louder, and finally, they even started to fight physically. I sat on the edge of my bed, my head buzzing, my heart aching as if it were being squeezed. Annoying clingy girl, were they talking about me? The one who had held me so tightly just a few days ago, refusing to let go – was that a ghost? I sat there stunned for a long time until my sister’s video call jiggled again. “Autumn, ready to drool?” “I guarantee you’ll fall for him at first sight.” My sister’s voice pulled me back to reality. She was excitedly knocking on the door next door. Her antics managed to dispel a good deal of my sadness. “Is he really that handsome?” I asked curiously. My sister made a shushing gesture, and the next second, the door opened. She held her phone up, switching the camera. The image blurred for a moment, and then I felt my heart skip a beat. The man on the screen had deep blue eyes and soft-looking brown curly hair. His face was as exquisitely sculpted as a work of art. Even though I’d seen many handsome men, at that moment, I felt a little dizzy. “I paid a fortune to find this one for you. You should be happy to have such a good sister.” My sister smirked like a cunning fox and handed the phone directly to the man. “Hayden Blackwell, this is my sister, Autumn Clarke.” She paused intentionally. “From today, she’s your mistress.” My face instantly flushed crimson, right down to my neck. “Hello.” The man stared at the phone for a few seconds. His voice was incredibly magnetic, instantly reassuring. “Mistress.” I almost bit my tongue, hastily waving my hand. “No, no, no, just call me Autumn.” My sister burst into laughter on the other end. Hayden looked up at her, and I might have been mistaken, but my sister immediately stifled her laughter. She glanced at me guiltily and quietly slipped towards the door. “You two chat, build some rapport. I’ll come back for my phone later.” The man on the screen and I stared at each other, wide-eyed. The atmosphere was a little awkward. Fortunately, Hayden was quite perceptive. Noticing my slight discomfort, he started making conversation. Not only was he handsome, but he spoke with a gentle cadence. His voice, a soft hum in my ears, made my head feel light and fuzzy. I answered whatever he asked. It wasn’t until he chuckled softly that I snapped back to attention. “I asked you what kind of gift you wanted, and you just kept saying ‘mm-hmm’. What does that mean?” My face was hot enough to fry an egg. I’d been so busy staring at his face, I hadn’t heard a word he said. 4 Just then, there was a knock on my bedroom door, and my sister’s voice came through the phone. “Alright, alright, you’ll have plenty of time to chat when I get back. Give me my phone, I want to play games.” Hayden gave me a somewhat helpless wave. “Good night, Autumn.” The knocking outside the door grew more urgent, so I could only hang up and open it. The moment the door swung open, Lysander’s hand, poised to knock again, froze mid-air. Lyall was hunched over, peeking through the door crack, and completely unprepared for my sudden opening. He tumbled face-first onto the floor. Lysander withdrew his hand, his expression calm, but his tone was gentle. “Not asleep yet?” Seeing the bruise on his chin, the last flicker of warmth in my heart died out. My mind replayed their argument from earlier. 5 Seeing my silence, Lyall scrambled up from the floor, his hand reaching for my arm. “Who were you talking to just now? Why was there a man’s voice in the middle of the night?” With that, he tried to snatch my phone. Lyall was incredibly possessive and wild. In the past, he’d scowl if I spoke to a neighbor for too long, sulk all night if I went out for dinner, and constantly check my phone. This time, I didn’t stop him. He snatched it, glanced at the contact name “Sister,” and his tense shoulders finally relaxed. He didn’t click to open the chat, returned the phone to me, his tone still a little guilty. “Oh, so you were talking to Sister Leigh. Why didn’t you say so sooner?” At the mention of my sister’s name, Lysander’s eyes also changed, revealing an undisguised eagerness. “Autumn, did your sister say when she’s coming back?” “Is Sister Leigh getting home next week?” The two succubi spoke in unison, and the air suddenly became incredibly quiet. Watching their impatient expressions, I suddenly found it a little funny. All their previous tenderness had been an act. I had been foolish enough to believe it was true love. The sweet nothings succubi whispered in bed—it turned out not even a single punctuation mark could be trusted. “She’s coming back next week.” I replied calmly. Lyall was younger and couldn’t hide his feelings. His eyes lit up instantly. “So she’ll come straight to your place then…” Lysander quickly pulled him back. Although he was trying to restrain himself, the corners of his mouth still curved upwards. “Alright, we’ll go pick her up together.” Hesitating, he then looked at me and said, “Autumn, you don’t look so good. Are you feeling unwell?” Lysander reached out to touch my forehead, but I sidestepped, shutting the bedroom door. “I’m fine.” I heard Lyall whisper outside the door, “Brother, she wasn’t asleep just now, was she? Did she hear everything we said?” Lysander didn’t reply, just pulled him away. I collapsed onto my bed, letting out a long sigh. I remembered the first time I saw them, at my sister’s estate. My sister was in a hurry to go abroad, and these two succubi, freshly delivered, were to be returned. “I completely forgot I even ordered these two.” Lysander remained silent, but Lyall’s eyes immediately welled up with tears, looking incredibly pitiful. I’d heard that if succubi were returned, they’d be sent for “reconditioning,” a process said to be extremely painful. So when my sister suggested giving them to me, I softened and agreed. My sister was quite surprised then, as my personality had always been rather conservative. But she still warned me, “Succubi are just trinkets for amusement, don’t get too attached. You can make do with these two for now, and I’ll find you better ones later.” I closed my eyes, my mind replaying Lyall’s words, “annoying clingy girl.” Perhaps my sister was right; they truly were just disposable. 6 The next morning, Lysander had already prepared breakfast. Lyall bounced out of his room, card in hand. “Brother, let’s go.” He looked up and saw me, his smile instantly freezing. “Lysander and I are going to buy some new clothes. Do you want to come along?” Lysander tried to smooth things over. I averted my gaze, walking straight to the dining table. “You two go ahead.” Lysander frowned, reaching out again to touch my head. “You seem a little out of sorts today. Are you sick?” I dodged him again, taking a sip of milk. Lysander’s hand hung in the air, but Lyall pulled him away. “Then you eat slowly; we’ll be back soon.” Lysander glanced back at me, his eyes full of confusion. I kept my head down, staring at my cup, ignoring him. I’d made up my mind last night: when my sister returned, I would send them back, exactly as they were. As for what would happen to them afterward, that was their own fate. After all, their service contract was still with my sister. The moment they left, I tossed out all their toothbrushes and towels that were in my room. Just then, Hayden video-called me. Seeing his handsome face, my mood instantly brightened. Indeed, looking at a gorgeous man was the best remedy for a gloomy mood. My sister always called me a shy, quiet girl, but today I chatted with Hayden for over three hours without feeling tired. “Autumn, I bought your favorite candied hawthorn.” Lyall burst through the front door like a cheerful puppy, clutching a bag. “I have something else to attend to, so I’ll hang up now. Your gift has already been shipped.” Hayden’s voice came from the phone, and Lyall’s smile vanished instantly. He rushed over in three strides, reaching out to snatch my phone. “Autumn Clarke! Who are you fooling around with while we’re not home? Why is there a man’s voice in the middle of the night?” I calmly slipped my phone into my pocket, taking the bag of candied hawthorn. Lysander followed, carrying shopping bags, as Lyall glared and complained. “Brother! Autumn Clarke was talking to a man on the phone while we were out, and she wouldn’t let me see!” Lysander was relatively composed, shoving the bags into Lyall’s arms. “It’s good that she has her own social circle.” Lyall paused, looked at the bags in his hands, then at me, as if understanding something. His expression softened slightly. I scoffed inwardly. Lysander was telling his brother that as long as someone else was occupying me, they could naturally make their escape. He was truly overthinking it; I had no intention of stopping them in the first place.

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I walked at six months—a proud story my parents told—until a car crash at age one changed everything. A firefighter said my swaddled body shielded Mom from a steel rebar. Losing a leg felt worth it if it saved her. When Mom said sadly, “It’s my fault, Alice,” I’d hug her and smile. “I love you. It doesn’t hurt.” Back then, it was just us, warm and close. Then Lily was born. She hated the attention my leg drew. She’d break my toys and blame me. Slowly, Mom’s eyes grew cold. Once, Lily accused me of throwing her teddy in the pond. Mom grabbed a cane and whipped me. “Stop bullying Lily!” I tried to run but couldn’t. “Get that bear now, or don’t come home!” “Mom, please,” I begged, “Grandma said the water’s dangerous.” Holding Lily, she sneered, “If you can’t get it, just die there.” I closed my eyes, jumped into the icy river, and remembered too late: a cripple in water can truly drown. The frigid river water rushed into my lungs instantly, and my soaked cotton clothes became incredibly heavy. Through my blurry vision, I saw the teddy bear lying still at the bottom. A pang of fear struck me; my instinct was to swim back to shore, but Mom’s words, “You can’t come home without the bear,” echoed like a curse in my mind. I wanted to go home, to be with Mom. So, enduring the intense pain of my lungs being crushed, I stretched out with all my might and finally clutched the teddy bear from the riverbed. “Mom, look. I found the bear.” I struggled desperately to swim towards the bank, but the clinging weeds, like countless icy hands, wrapped tightly around my left leg. In a haze, I heard Mom’s voice, so near, yet so far away: “Alice, why are you standing by the river all alone? You could die if you fall in!” Then came Lily’s soft voice: “Mommy, I’m waiting for big sister to get my bear.” “That useless brat, she’s taken so long to get it back, who knows where she’s playing. Look at you, your hands are freezing cold.” “Come home with Mommy, Mommy will bake you oranges.” My heart clenched, and I struggled frantically towards the surface. Mom, don’t leave, I’m still here! Suddenly, my body felt lighter. I burst out of the water, scrambling onto the ice, only to see Mom’s retreating back. She held Lily, walking straight towards home. Lily hugged Mom’s neck affectionately: “Mommy, I saw fish blowing bubbles just now!” Mom smiled, stroking Lily’s cheek: “Does Lily like fish? How about Daddy and Mommy take you to the aquarium tomorrow?” I tried to take a few steps to follow, but my disabled left leg gave way, and I fell heavily onto the ground. Mom, wait for me, I found Lily’s bear. Can you, please, take me to the aquarium too? The teddy bear tumbled from my embrace. I reached for it, but it slipped through my fingers again and again, skittering across the ice. Tears welled up in my eyes; I was so frustrated. Why couldn’t I pick it up? If I couldn’t get the bear, Mom would be upset. Just then, a man in a tall black hat appeared before me. He bent down, picked up the teddy bear, and gently placed it in my arms. “Alice, come with me.” I looked at the man in black, confused: “Sir, do you know me? I can’t go with you, Mom will worry.” The man in black frowned: “You are dead. You need to be reincarnated now. I’ve found you a good family, and if we’re too slow, you’ll miss your chance.” I’m dead? A huge sigh of relief escaped me. Mom, did you hear that? I’m not that useless brat. It’s because I died, that’s why I couldn’t pick up the bear. I turned my head, searching for Mom’s retreating figure, but behind me, everything was a boundless expanse of white. Mom had already gone far away. I tugged on the black-clad man’s sleeve, whispering a plea: “Sir, can I wait one more day?” “I want to go to the aquarium with Mom one last time.” The man in black hesitated for a moment, then nodded, letting out a soft sigh: “Alright, I’ll give you one more day. I’ll come personally to pick you up tomorrow.” “Thank you, sir!” Clutching the teddy bear, I ran back home without looking back. Oh, joy, Mom. I can go to the aquarium with you now. When I was five, my classmates teased me because I couldn’t walk properly. I cried all the way home, and Dad and Mom took me to the aquarium. Dad carried me on his shoulders, pointing at the gracefully dancing mermaids behind the glass. “Look, Alice,” he said, “mermaids don’t have legs, do they? You’re the little mermaid gifted to Mom and me by the heavens.” “Your legs will turn into a beautiful tail one day, which is why you can’t walk properly for now.” I was so happy. Every day after that, I’d ask Mom when she could take me to the aquarium again. But after Lily was born, Mom always said it was inconvenient to take me out, and I never went to the aquarium again. I knew Mom wasn’t unwilling to take me out. She blamed me for my lame leg, that I was just a burden to them. I returned home to find Dad, Mom, and Lily sitting around the dinner table. On the table was my favorite sweet and sour pork ribs. “Mom, Dad, I’m home!” Dad picked up a rib for Lily, anxiously glancing outside: “Where did Alice run off to? It’s dinner time, and she’s still not back.” “She probably went off playing again. Even with her bad leg, she loves to run around so much.” Mom, I didn’t run wild. I went to get Lily’s bear back for her. Oh, I forgot. I’m dead. Mom can’t see me. Dad put down his chopsticks and looked at Mom, a hint of reproach in his voice: “Alice’s leg isn’t her fault, it’s ours. Why are you so hard on her?” Mom slammed her bowl onto the table, startling Lily into loud sobs. “My fault?! If you hadn’t been fooling around…” I desperately wanted to wipe away the tears welling in Mom’s eyes. But I forgot, I was dead, and there was nothing I could do. Dad comforted Lily, sighing: “Alright, alright! Is this something to be proud of? Let’s just eat.” Mom’s phone rang; it was Grandma! Lily sweetly said into the camera, “Happy New Year, Grandma!” Grandma smiled broadly: “Lily is such a good girl. Where’s your sister? Why isn’t she eating with you?” Mom picked up Lily and aimed the camera at her own face: “That brat, who knows where she’s been. When she gets back, I’m definitely going to give her a good talking to.” Grandma coughed twice, then sighed: “Since it’s the New Year, why don’t you send Alice to stay with me for a couple of days? You and David (Dad’s name) have a lot of pressure too.” I murmured to myself, Grandma’s house had my cousin who always played with me; I loved going to Grandma’s the most. “Alice is also the child you carried for ten months. You should talk to her gently…” Mom pursed her lips, interrupting Grandma: “She’s nothing but trouble, a curse. All these years, she’s inconvenienced me and her dad enough, and she’s dragged Lily down with her, getting her discriminated against and bullied.” I knew Mom was talking about the time I got into a fight at school. I opened my mouth to explain, but tears wouldn’t stop falling first, so I quickly covered my mouth with my hand. Mom said she didn’t like crying children. But Mom, it really wasn’t me who caused Lily to be bullied. Dad had said he had to work late and asked me to pick Lily up from school. But Lily’s classmates saw I was a cripple and surrounded us, spitting at me and Lily: “The lame sister is here to pick up the lame sister!” They laughed at me for being a cripple, and I didn’t get angry, but they couldn’t bully Lily. Mom said I was the older sister, I had to protect my sister. I charged forward, headbutting the strongest little chubby kid, then sat on him, hitting him left and right: “Don’t you dare bully my sister! My sister isn’t a cripple, apologize to her!” A group of them pushed me to the ground, and the chubby kid kicked me in the stomach, but I didn’t feel any pain at all. I pushed Lily away, turned my head, and shouted at her: “Lily, run!” Lily ran, and she called Mom. I held my head high, like a proud little peacock. I had protected my sister, Mom must be here to praise me. But what greeted me was Mom’s fierce slap. “I work myself to the bone to send you to school, and you come here to fight people!” “Do you have any respect for me and your father?” I turned my head away from the blow, wiping away my tears, full of injustice: “They were bullying Lily, that’s why I fought them.” The teacher came out then and pulled Mom away: “Alice’s Mom, when the school staff arrived, it was indeed Alice who was getting beaten.” Mom looked at me suspiciously, then Lily suddenly spoke up: “No, it wasn’t like that at all. Sister was the one who rushed up and started hitting first. They were just playing a game with me.” No, it wasn’t like that, not at all. I looked at Lily in disbelief, not understanding why she would say such a thing. Mom, after hearing Lily’s words, twisted my ear and took me home. All the way home, the scrutinizing gazes of the students felt more painful than any wound. When we got home, Mom snapped two canes asking me why I had lied. I lay on the floor, dizzy, clutching my stomach, but I couldn’t lie. I could only explain over and over again: “I fought to protect Lily.” From then on, to avoid Lily being implicated, Mom never let me go to school again. I didn’t blame Mom; it was my fault, this little cripple, for burdening her again. The news report on TV jolted me back to reality. “Breaking news: A female body has been recovered from the artificial lake in the city center. Preliminary identification indicates the age of approximately nine years old.” I pointed at the familiar shadow on the TV, my eyes instantly hot, and I yelled at Mom: “Mom! That’s me, I’m dead!”

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In my past life, my twin sister was adopted by a wealthy family, while I was taken home to be a child bride. Later, my sister jumped from a high-rise building, while I bloomed from the darkness. My sister smiled and said: “Sister, if it were you, you wouldn’t have let your life become such a mess, right?” Reborn into a new life, my sister and I switched fates. I am the dazzling sun shining in the day, and my sister is the evil spirit crawling in the dark night. We never looked back, taking turns moving forward. 01 I was reborn to the day my sister was adopted when we were five years old. This time, my clever and lively sister acted completely devoid of manners, even shouting that she was going to be a rich person, causing Mrs. Sterling to frown and choose me, who was quiet and steady. My sister and I exchanged a glance, and I saw the sly smile in her eyes. I knew my sister had also been reborn. My sister and I are fraternal twins. In our previous life, my sister was chosen by the Sterling family, a wealthy family in New York. When she left, she looked at me with wide eyes and said, “Sister, I will come back for you.” But I never saw my sister again. I was adopted by an ordinary family because their son was intellectually disabled, and they wanted to raise me to marry him when I grew up. I grew up amidst beatings and curses. I studied desperately, telling them that I had a great future and would bring them more benefits. Through bullying and humiliation, I got into a top university and later passed the civil service exam. My sister, who had entered the wealthy family, became notorious and jumped from a high-rise building. Before she died, my sister sent me a message: “I’m so unwilling to accept this. If you had been adopted by the Sterling family, sister, you wouldn’t have ended up like this.” Two minutes later, there was an extra five million dollars in my bank account. That was the inheritance my sister left me. Unfortunately, before I could enjoy the inheritance my sister left me, I was stabbed to death a few days later by my adoptive parents’ intellectually disabled son who suddenly rushed out. When I regained consciousness, I was back to when I was five years old. 02 I went to the Sterling family, changed my name to Ava Sterling, had my own room, parents, and a brother named Liam Sterling. The first day I ate at the Sterling family, I accidentally broke a bowl. I was already mentally prepared to be beaten. The expected beating and scolding didn’t come. Instead, I received concern, asking if I had cut my hand. For the first time, I learned that breaking a bowl doesn’t mean getting beaten. The new home had everything. Dad was rarely home, and Mom didn’t pay much attention to me. The servants did the chores, and a nanny played with me and Liam. If my sister’s death hadn’t reminded me, I almost would have drowned in this luxurious happiness. Liam was in poor health. A fortune teller told Mr. and Mrs. Sterling to adopt a girl from the orphanage to be his sister, and his health would improve and everything would go smoothly. So that was the reason the Sterling family adopted an orphan. Liam spoke little and seemed a bit gloomy. I wasn’t an extrovert either, so we weren’t close. Strictly speaking, I was like an outsider living in the Sterling family, but I enjoyed the best of everything, and I was very grateful. By the time we were in middle school, Liam’s health had improved greatly, and his personality had also changed a bit. We were in the same school but acted like strangers. No one knew our relationship. I lacked nothing, but I had no money. I ate and lived at home, and I hadn’t found a chance to go back to the small town to see my sister. It wasn’t until high school that I realized the malice I encountered in this life was different from the malice I experienced in the town in my previous life. The malice in middle school and high school were also different. The malice I encountered in this life was more arrogant, opaque, like madness surging under a dark current. The similarity was that both were deadly. But, I finally had a chance to go see my sister. 03 “Don’t think that just because you have good grades, Liam will like you. How could a nerd like you ever get his affection?” “Who are you putting on this aloof act for? Everyone knows you’re secretly hooking up with Liam! Slut!” A few girls cornered me in the restroom, pulling my hair, warning me not to have any more interactions with Liam. I pulled my hair back and stated calmly: “Liam is my brother. We live under the same roof.” They were stunned. Although my last name was also Sterling, Liam and I didn’t look like siblings at all. I continued: “Since I was little, my grades have always been good. My parents love me very much. I don’t want to be gossiped about; I just want to study hard, so I pretend not to know my brother at school.” “My brother doesn’t like people who bully others, and my parents like it even less. If you don’t believe me, you can check for yourselves.” I walked out of the girls’ restroom unharmed. However, during the lunch break that day, I was called over by one of Liam’s lackeys. Liam asked me impatiently: “Why did you tell others about our relationship?” “Because your presence makes people bully me. Your admirers think I like you.” A playful light flashed in Liam’s eyes, and his expression was slightly mocking, as if saying, Don’t you like me? I looked straight into Liam’s eyes and said lightly: “I also don’t want the person I like to misunderstand.” Liam’s expression changed slightly, then he chuckled: “The person you like? Who?” I looked serious and said firmly: “Ethan.” Liam’s face grew even uglier, and at that moment, a low laugh suddenly came from behind. “What does Ava like about me? I’m truly flattered.” 04 Ethan was Liam’s good friend, and in my previous life, he was also my sister’s closest companion. When I was ostracized and isolated in school, Ethan appeared by my side like the warm spring sun and the gentle summer evening breeze. Then I understood why my sister was desperate enough to jump off a building in the end. My sister was lively, straightforward, and easy to connect with, which in other words meant she was easier to deceive. When my sister died, her identity was that of a mistress kept by Ethan. The day before she jumped was the exact day Ethan got married. They said my sister was never content. After entering the Sterling family, she was too ambitious. She tried her best to please Mr. and Mrs. Sterling, and later she was even bold enough to try and hook up with the young master of the Sterling family. After being thrown out of the room by him, the Sterling family was utterly disgusted with her. Yet she still dreamed of marrying into a wealthy family, so she climbed into the bed of Liam’s childhood friend, Ethan. She was with Ethan for three years, originally thinking she could become his official girlfriend. Unfortunately, her dream of joining a wealthy family shattered again, so unable to bear the shock, she jumped off a building. Those who play with genuine feelings must be prepared to be played by others one day. Liam’s angry voice brought me back to my senses. “How old are you? Do you even know what liking someone means? Focus on your studies! If you dare date early, I’ll break your legs.” “Liam is so domineering, don’t scare our little Ava.” I sneaked a peek at Ethan and blushed. Liam walked away with a sour face. After I made my relationship with Liam public, Liam didn’t deny it. The malice and exclusion that surrounded me seemed to vanish. 05 In high school, with living expenses, living in the dorms, and having some freedom, I took a day off to find my sister. I found her in an alley near the county high school. She was holding an iron rod, had blood on her face, and her foot was stepping on a boy’s back. She looked like a complete delinquent. Next to her squatted two other boys holding their heads. “Looking very impressive, Chloe.” Hearing my voice, my sister froze for a moment, then turned around, glared at me, and cursed viciously: “Where did this nosy person come from? Get lost!” I stood there without speaking. My sister kicked the boy under her foot, told them to scram, then sat on the ground, pulled out a cigarette, and put it in her mouth. She said sarcastically: “Oh, isn’t this my sister who entered a wealthy family? What made you think of your poor sister?” “Are you here to give me money? Hand it over then!” I looked at the three guys leaving and couldn’t help clenching my fists. Those three were the ones who bullied me in high school. In middle school, girls with slightly more developed chests were called “cows,” and those who were a bit chubby were called “tanks.” That shameful nickname, “cow,” was given to me by those guys and stayed with me throughout high school. Seeing me stay silent, my sister glared at me impatiently. “Can’t you understand human language? If you don’t have money, get lost!” I walked over, took the cigarette from her mouth, and threw it away. I then took out the living expenses I had saved up in my pocket, kept a little for myself, and gave the rest to her. My sister quickly took the money. “At least you have a conscience. Come see me more often, but don’t come if you don’t bring money!” Instead, I lunged forward and hugged my sister tightly. I asked her in a low voice: “Are you in high school? Don’t you want to be a star?” “Go take the art exams. Study hard in high school. The academic requirements aren’t that high. Whatever you want to learn, I have money, I’ll give it to you.” I felt my sister’s body stiffen, then she whispered back: “I’m in school. The idiot died, so the family can only rely on me now. If they didn’t let me go to school, I would have caused a huge scene.” “What to learn? I’ve learned everything. With my looks, I’ll definitely be a shining big star.” The idiot died? I looked at my sister in disbelief. She casually flipped her hair: “Died in an accident.” 06 “Alright, you’ve given me the money, now leave quickly. Don’t bother me!” My sister suddenly pushed me away, looking impatient. I wanted to ask her about her past life, but she had already walked away swinging the iron rod. And behind me, a cold voice suddenly sounded. It was Liam! “You went through all this trouble just to see a piece of trash like that?” I turned around, feeling cold all over. Liam was actually stalking me! I showed an embarrassed expression and lowered my head: “She is my sister.” “Your sister just treats you like a free ATM. Ava, are you really that useless? You gave her your own living expenses?” Liam said arrogantly: “Today is only Tuesday. Don’t expect me to help you out.” Me: “I’m dieting.” Liam looked at me, seemingly amused by his anger. I turned around and walked outside to wait for the bus back to school. Liam stood next to me, and I couldn’t help but ask: “Brother, are you worried about me?” Liam snorted coldly: “I just came to see if you were doing anything behind my back to wrong the Sterling family. You eat our food, live in our house. If you dare to embarrass us, I won’t let you off easily.” I looked up at him with a sincere smile: “Brother, if you’re worried about me, just say it. A brother worrying about his sister isn’t embarrassing.” Liam’s ears suddenly turned red. He pursed his lips and said nothing, but my heart was completely calm. My sister was right. If she and I switched places, we would both live very exciting lives. She could fight back against all the bullying on the spot, picking up an iron rod and smashing it down hard, and she could also make sure her adoptive parents couldn’t control her. And I could also become an existence that made the Sterling family look at me with new eyes, making everyone like me. We will eventually reunite at the very top. 07 After Thursday’s evening self-study, Liam and Ethan came to find me, insisting on having a late-night snack, so I didn’t find a chance to sneak out alone. Actually, this day was mine and my sister’s birthday. After returning to the dorm, the school gates were already locked. I struggled to climb over the wall and unluckily ran into Ethan. Ethan and I sat side-by-side on the school wall. He looked at me with interest: “Where are you sneaking off to so late?” I stammered and couldn’t say it. Ethan leaned closer and said very ambiguously: “Did you know I was here, so you came to meet me?” “Unfortunately, your brother is about to come out. How about I take you away first, and we can go have fun.” I blushed and whispered: “I wanted to go buy… buy that.” When I said buy that, Ethan understood. He coughed unnaturally, then said: “Aren’t you uncomfortable right now? Let me buy it for you.” I shook my head, “No need, I’ll buy it myself.” Saying that, I was about to jump down. Ethan jumped down first and opened his arms to me: “Come down, I’ll catch you.” I jumped down and landed in a steady embrace. Ethan pulled me along. “Hurry, don’t let your brother find out. He’s been really jealous lately and always targets me.” I let Ethan pull me along, and we brushed past a girl standing at the school gate. She was holding a bouquet of white camellias in her hand, and neither of us looked at each other. After buying my things, I went to a bakery and bought two small cakes, paying for them before Ethan could. Then we went into a bookstore next door. Ethan shook his head: “What kind of person goes to a bookstore when they’re out to have fun? Little Ava, you really don’t know how to be romantic!” I took out a small cake, scooped up a spoonful, and offered it to Ethan’s mouth. He was stunned for a moment, then smiled radiantly, opened his mouth, and ate the cake I fed him. “So sweet.” I placed the other small cake on a bookshelf, then pulled Ethan and ran back. When we reached the school gate, there was a bouquet of white camellias on the ground. I crouched down and picked it up. At the same time, a girl took a small cake from a shelf in the bookstore. 08 During my three years of high school, I studied like my life depended on it, utilizing every resource I could. After all, being in an international high school, I was surrounded by the best and brightest. These people would be valuable connections in the future, so I had to be outstanding enough to make them respect me. After the college entrance exams, Ethan confessed his feelings to me amidst a bustling crowd. When I turned my head, I met Liam’s obscure and hard-to-read gaze. He was looking at me too. I had seen that look in his eyes countless times over the past two years. I smiled sweetly and walked toward Ethan: “Hello, boyfriend.” That night, Liam pinned me against the wall in my room and interrogated me with red eyes: “What’s so good about Ethan? Do you really like him that much?” “I don’t believe you don’t know how I feel! Have you forgotten who highlighted your notes day and night and helped you guess exam questions?” In my past life, did my sister also break into his room and confess her feelings like this? What did he say then? “Are you really that cheap? Calling me brother isn’t enough, you also want to be the mistress of the Sterling family?” “Remember your place! You’re just a dog raised by the Sterling family.” I tilted my head, looking at Liam with confusion but firmness: “But, you are my brother.” “Mom and Dad raised me and worked hard to cultivate me. How could I bite the hand that feeds me?” Liam’s eyes flashed with restraint, and he whispered: “I’ll figure something out with Mom and Dad. They like you a lot too.” “I’m sorry, brother. You are a very important family member to me, but the person I like has always been Ethan.” 09 In this life, I became the top scorer in science for the provincial college entrance exam. Liam also did very well, but unfortunately, it seemed I stole all the thunder. The Sterling family hosted a celebration banquet for us, and everyone was very curious about me. I behaved obediently, sensibly, and elegantly, earning a lot of face for the Sterling family. Many people approached with intentions of arranged marriages, but Mr. and Mrs. Sterling tactfully declined them all. The Ethan family immediately claimed me, saying Ethan and I were already together. Others smiled and congratulated Mr. and Mrs. Sterling, saying the Ethan and Sterling families were already close, and now with this marriage tie, others would only be left with scraps. I smiled at Ethan, getting lost in his tender and affectionate eyes, remembering something my sister had said. She said, “Sister, I really did love him.” Being intentionally flirted with by a golden boy like Liam, boldly confessing, being humiliated, and feeling heartbroken and sad—Ethan was like a ray of light shining into her heart. He was always so gentle, so attentive. With those beautiful peach blossom eyes, he looked deeply affectionate even when looking at a dog. He was extremely patient. But after three years of dating, he smiled and said he was bored, handed my sister a card, and told her to leave. After Ethan got married, the Sterling family felt they had raised my sister for nothing and made a loss, so they made her accompany a difficult client. That client was a sixty-year-old man with sadistic tendencies. My sister told me this with a smile. She said she had lived for over twenty years, and there wasn’t a single person around her who truly cared for her. No one noticed that since middle school, she had always hurt herself, time and time again, just to hold on until she was twenty-four. For the past few years, we would meet at a certain bookstore during holidays. My sister wore a baseball cap and a mask, and we sat back-to-back, slowly recounting the years we had missed in each other’s lives. Because other people’s parents said holidays were for family reunions, in this life, we made sure to find a way to meet on every holiday.

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On my birthday, Ethan proposed to me. But the moment he pulled out the ring, Chloe snatched it from his hands and slipped it onto her own finger. Ethan just smiled, looking at her with absolute adoration. “Chloe is always so playful.” The room went dead silent. Everyone was waiting for my reaction—the actual girlfriend. They expected a screaming match, a hair-pulling reality TV catfight. Instead, I casually popped a party popper. As confetti rained down on them, I smiled and offered my congratulations. “A match made in heaven. I wish you both a lifetime of happiness.” 1 Ethan stared at me through the falling confetti. Chloe happily wrapped her arms around his neck, acting like a spoiled child. “I love this ring! I want it.” It was as if Ethan had suddenly snapped out of a trance. He finally seemed to remember that this was my birthday party. He pulled Chloe’s hands off his neck and nervously tried to explain. “Chloe’s just messing around.” The guests were all mutual friends of mine and Ethan’s. They quickly tried to laugh it off and ease the tension. “Tonight’s your special night! Don’t let irrelevant people ruin your mood.” Irrelevant? I looked at Chloe standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Ethan. They were childhood sweethearts. The golden boy and the perfect girl. She raised her hand, deliberately showing off the ring on her middle finger. The fit was absolutely perfect. It was a silent declaration: I was the irrelevant one here. I raised an eyebrow, locking eyes with Ethan. “Since the ring is already on, shouldn’t you guys head straight to the honeymoon suite?” Ethan’s face instantly darkened. He took a long stride toward me. “Mia, Chloe was just curious and wanted to try it on. Could you please be a little more generous?” “We grew up together. She’s practically still a child at heart. Are you seriously going to hold a grudge against a kid?” The expressions on everyone’s faces turned painfully awkward. Chloe wasn’t six. She wasn’t sixteen. She was a twenty-six-year-old woman! Calling her a “child” implied everyone else in the room was blind. Chloe slid the ring off her finger. “Ethan, how could you say that to Mia? She’s not holding a grudge against me. Mia, here’s your ring back. Happy birthday.” She casually tossed the ring toward me. The small, diamond-encrusted band hit the floor and rolled, stopping right at the toe of my shoe. The atmosphere in the room turned suffocatingly weird. The entire situation was baffling. I was the one who had just been deeply humiliated, yet Ethan was fiercely protecting Chloe, even yelling at me in front of all our friends. Ethan glared at me, his eyes icy, trying to intimidate me into submission. It felt like a bucket of freezing water had been dumped over my head. I was instantly, terrifyingly sober. In the past, a situation like this would have made me lose my mind. I would have launched myself at Chloe and torn her apart. I would have had a screaming match with Ethan, leading to a massive cold war. Then, he would use that as a perfectly valid excuse to disappear for days, completely ignoring my calls and texts, until I finally swallowed my pride, apologized, and begged him to come back. That was how he had systematically trained me over the years. I had bowed my head so many times that he no longer even factored my feelings into his decisions. After all, in a relationship, whoever falls first… Loses. 2 Ethan and Chloe grew up in the same affluent, tight-knit neighborhood. Chloe was naturally chaotic and loved causing trouble. But in Ethan’s eyes, she was as pure and innocent as a child. He willingly, tirelessly cleaned up every single one of her messes. During college, even though they never officially announced they were dating, everyone assumed they were a package deal. So, when Ethan suddenly showed up with a massive bouquet of red roses and asked me to be his girlfriend… I was completely stunned. I thought it was a prank. A dare from a frat party. Or maybe I was just hallucinating. But I was so desperately in love with Ethan that even if it was a dream, I was more than willing to dive in. And reality seemed to reward my devotion. Ethan actually became my boyfriend. I got to hold his hand secretly under the table in the library. We went on dates to cute coffee shops. On every major holiday, I got to spend it with him. But there was a catch: I had to initiate every single one of those things. I rationalized it. I told myself it was his first real relationship and he just didn’t know how to take care of someone. Until I saw with my own eyes exactly how he took care of Chloe. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it. It was just that the person receiving his meticulous, unwavering devotion… wasn’t me. 3 The candles on my birthday cake were lit. My friends urged me to make a wish quickly. I snapped out of my daze and blew out all the candles without closing my eyes. Seeing this, Ethan frowned impatiently. “Mia, what kind of tantrum is this now? Don’t think that just because it’s your birthday I’m going to let you act like a brat!” I gripped the edge of the table and stood up. “Fine. Then I’ll let you have the floor.” I walked around the table, completely ignoring Ethan’s furious, dark expression, and walked straight out of the private room. As the door was closing behind me, I heard Chloe’s signature, dramatic voice: “Oh no… it’s Mia’s birthday after all. It’s really bad that we made the birthday girl leave so angry, isn’t it? Should I go apologize to her?” Ethan fought back his annoyance, his tone instantly shifting to a gentle, comforting murmur. “If she wants to leave, let her leave. No one is going to tolerate her terrible temper. Come on, let’s just enjoy the party!” A single, heavy door separated us. Inside the room was the roar of a party. Outside the door was absolute, suffocating isolation. Ethan had never, ever spoken to me with that kind of gentleness. He had never, not once, publicly taken my side or defended me in front of others. They always did this. Right in front of my face, under the guise of “just being childhood friends,” they did everything a romantic couple would do. Chloe was terrible with directions, so he would happily drive an hour out of his way to pick her up from work. When Chloe made a massive mistake on a project and got fired, he immediately hired her to be his personal assistant. The passenger seat of his car practically had her name permanently etched into it. Any free time he had, the moment she called, he was there. Whenever I felt my boundaries were being violated and got angry, he would tell me, “We are the ones building a life together. Chloe is just a kid. Don’t be so petty and jealous.” But every time I saw another one of Chloe’s things left in our apartment, a deep, sickening panic would gnaw at me. Until tonight. When Ethan stood by and allowed Chloe to slip on the engagement ring meant for me. He finally turned me into a complete, undeniable joke. Ethan took the love I had for him and forged it into a blade, driving it straight into my chest. I pulled out my phone to order an Uber. A notification popped up. A friend inside the room had texted me a photo. It was Chloe, looking slightly flushed from the alcohol, comfortably nestled in Ethan’s arms. “Mia, Ethan is going way too far. Does he even remember he’s your boyfriend?” Did he remember? He probably did. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be just innocently holding her while she was drunk. He would be carrying her out of there, finding a quiet, empty room, and having his way with her… A cold night wind swept down the street, blowing dust into my eyes. My eyes stung and watered, and I rubbed them aggressively. But I realized… I wasn’t crying. My heart wasn’t aching with that familiar, suffocating pain anymore. It felt like the world had finally gone quiet. So this is what it feels like when you finally stop loving someone. 4 By the time I got home and finished washing up, it was past midnight. Ethan hadn’t texted me once. For the first time, I didn’t send him the usual barrage of texts demanding to know when he was coming home. Instead, I opened a message from my manager, Sarah. “Mia, are you seriously not going to consider the overseas posting? It’s a massive learning opportunity provided by corporate. It’s incredibly rare! It’s only for three years. Is your relationship with your boyfriend really so fragile it can’t survive three years?” Sarah was my senior from college and my current boss. The company had an upcoming opening for an international posting—a fast-track program for future executives—and she had highly recommended me for it. I had politely declined, using my poor English as an excuse. But she saw right through me. She knew I was completely blinded by love. I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Ethan alone in the States. When I graduated college, my advisor asked our class what our ultimate goals were. My classmates shouted about making six figures, buying houses and sports cars, starting their own companies… I just squeezed Ethan’s hand tightly and said with absolute sincerity: “I want to build a home with Ethan!” Later, we did buy an apartment together. But I couldn’t even manage to get him to come home to it. I typed and deleted sentences in the chat box. Before I could hit send, Sarah called me. “Mia, I truly believe in your potential. You do this three-year stint, and when you come back, you’ll walk straight into upper management. Plus, you’ll be going with an entire team. You won’t be out there fighting alone.” “Sarah… let me think about it a little more.” Hearing the hesitation in my voice, Sarah’s tone instantly brightened. “Great! While you’re thinking it over, I highly suggest you start preparing. Brush up on your English. The deployment isn’t until next month, you have plenty of time.” I had absolutely no natural talent for English. Back in school, no matter how hard I studied, I barely scraped by with passing grades. As for conversational speaking… back then, Ethan used to help me. Now, I had to rely entirely on myself. All the English books in the apartment were ones I had bought for Ethan. I knew this place inside and out. Without even looking, I grabbed the exact textbook I needed from the shelf. I used to naively believe I knew Ethan just as well. I let out a self-deprecating laugh. He was currently drowning in the affection of his true love. Why would he need me to care about him? I read for a while until my eyelids grew too heavy to keep open. I was half-asleep when I heard the sound of keys turning in the lock, followed by heavy footsteps. Ethan was home. “Mia.” He called my name from the living room a few times, then pushed the bedroom door open. Seeing me in bed, his tone immediately turned displeased. “Mia!” I furrowed my brow, rubbed my eyes, and sat up. “You’re back?” He froze. Usually, if he came home this late, I would be sitting rigidly on the living room sofa waiting for him. Then, I would interrogate him endlessly about exactly what he had been doing, accuse him of having an inappropriate relationship with Chloe, and it would escalate into a massive, screaming fight. This was the first time things hadn’t gone exactly according to his script. His face was dark as a thundercloud. I adjusted my blanket. “Go take a shower and get to bed. It’s late.” “After you left, Chloe got drunk, so I had to drive her home. Then…” “Oh.” I didn’t wait for him to finish his excuse. I lay back down and pulled the covers up. He took a step closer to the bed. The sharp scent of alcohol mixed with expensive women’s perfume invaded my nose. “What happened with the ring… she took it too far. I’ll make it up to you another day…” “She just acts like a kid. She likes to play around.” I reached a hand out from under the covers and waved the air in front of my face. “Just go shower. I’m exhausted.” “Mia, what exactly is your endgame here?” He was suppressing his anger, his voice low and tight. I opened my eyes, looking at him with genuine confusion. “What do you mean?” “You…” For once, he was completely speechless. In the past, whenever I questioned him, he would just get annoyed and tell me to shut up. I wrapped the blanket tighter around myself. “Stop overthinking it. We both have work tomorrow.” With that, I closed my eyes and pretended to fall asleep. He stood silently by the bed for a few minutes before finally turning and walking out. He slammed the bedroom door behind him with absolutely zero hesitation, venting his frustration. I knew he was angry, and I knew exactly why. He had actually lowered his pride to offer a rare, half-assed explanation, and I completely ignored it. So he threw a tantrum. He actually thought I would jump out of bed and go chase after him to comfort him, just like I always used to.

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Ever since Madeline came crawling back to the family after her affair, I’ve made it a ritual. Every single day, I post. Is infidelity an addiction? How much of a rush is the betrayal, really? After the act, does a woman feel more guilt toward her child or her lover? I tag her university in every single post. I make sure the algorithm does its job, pushing my words directly into the feeds of her students, her colleagues, and most importantly, her lover. Everyone tells me to stop. They tell me it’s “undignified,” that I should be the “bigger person,” the “gracious husband.” Madeline was the only one who defended me at first. She’d shield me from their judgment, her voice soft and martyred: “I’m the one who did wrong. Let Silas vent. He has every right to his anger.” That lasted until the ninety-ninth post. Madeline burst through the door like a hurricane, eyes bloodshot, and smashed my laptop against the hardwood floor. “Silas, for God’s sake, enough! I’m back, aren’t I? I’m here! What more do you want from me?” she screamed, her voice cracking. “How much longer are you going to torture me before you’re satisfied?” I didn’t give her an answer. I didn’t even look up. I just finished drying the last of the dinner plates, set it gently in the rack, and turned to her with a calm, practiced smile. “Are you hungry? I can fix you a plate if you’d like.” … Madeline stood frozen, her chest heaving with a fury that had nowhere to land. My question was a punch into a cloud of cotton—soft, yielding, and utterly infuriating. When she didn’t speak, I reached past her and picked up the silk dress she had discarded on the armchair. “This is getting wrinkled,” I noted idly. “I’ll go iron it for you.” “Silas!” She caught my arm, her voice vibrating with a frantic, suppressed edge. “Stop the act! Stop pretending to be insane! Do you have any idea what those posts are doing to my reputation? To my career? I’m a human being, Silas. I’m exhausted!” My hand stilled. My breath hitched, just for a second. “Are you afraid of the impact on your career?” I asked, looking her in the eye. “Or are you afraid of what it’s doing to Tristan?” That name was a landmine. It detonated between us, shredding whatever was left of the quiet. “Why are you bringing up Tristan again?” she snapped. “I told you, I had him transferred to a different research group. I cut him off. You know this. Do you want to drive everyone around you as crazy as you are? Is that the goal?” Her voice climbed to a shrill peak, but then she caught sight of my face—gaunt, shadowed, the face of a man who hadn’t slept in weeks. Her anger vanished as quickly as it had arrived, replaced by a suffocating, performative guilt. She reached out, pulling me into a desperate embrace. “I’m sorry, honey. I shouldn’t have snapped. You know the pregnancy makes my emotions go haywire. I’m impulsive. I’ll buy you a new laptop tomorrow, I promise.” I recoiled from her touch as if her skin were live wire. I stumbled toward the door, my stomach rolling, and began to retch. “Don’t touch me,” I gasped. “You’re… you’re covered in it.” Madeline’s face darkened. Her eyes welled with tears, her hands trembling. “You think I’m disgusting?” Before I could move, she grabbed my wrists, shoving me back against the doorframe. She fumbled with my belt, her movements frantic and territorial. She leaned in, biting my lip hard enough to draw blood. “The doctor said the second trimester is fine. Silas, let’s just… let’s just be us again.” “Get off me! It’s nauseating!” I shoved her away with a burst of desperate strength. I collapsed to the floor, frantically scrubbing at the skin she’d touched, rubbing until it turned a raw, angry red. The room filled with the sound of my heaving. “So dirty. I have to… I have to wash it off…” “Silas! Do you hate me that much? Tell me what I have to do to make you forgive me!” Madeline shrieked behind me, her voice ragged. I ignored her. I scrambled into the bathroom, locked the door, and turned the shower to a freezing needles-and-ice spray. I let the cold soak into my bones. Outside, the bedroom door slammed with enough force to rattle the pipes. I looked up, catching my reflection in the steamed-over mirror. A pale, ghost-like face looked back, eyes drowning in tears. The grief hit me then, a tidal wave that stole the air from my lungs. I clutched my chest, sobbing until I couldn’t breathe. I never thought we’d end up here—the golden couple of the faculty, the high school sweethearts everyone envied—now reduced to this visceral, skin-crawling loathing. We used to be inseparable. Now, her shadow felt like a stain. I had tried. God, I had tried to be the “broad-minded husband.” I tried to bury the images. But every time I looked at her growing belly, I remembered. I remembered that she had been with him—the student I had personally mentored, the boy I had helped with his tuition—while she was carrying a child. I remembered that while I was at my father’s funeral, she was in our bed, in our home, doing things I couldn’t unsee. My stomach cramped, a sharp, surgical pain that felt like a knife twisting in my vitals. Why did she get to walk around so unburdened? Why did she get to act as if nothing had happened, while I was rotting from the inside out? Eventually, I stumbled out of the bathroom. The house was deathly quiet. Madeline was sitting on the sofa, her eyes rimmed with red. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I was out of line tonight. It’s all my fault. I won’t do it again.” “It doesn’t matter,” I said, cutting her off. “That’s your business.” I didn’t wait for her response. I walked into the bedroom and lay down. My tears soaked the pillow as I thought of the life inside her. I’m sorry, little one. Daddy’s just tired. As my eyes drifted shut, I began to count. One hundred days. Just one hundred more days until the baby was born. Then, I would be free. I woke up to a screaming pain in my gut. It was a jagged, rolling agony that made my vision blur. I tried to get out of bed to find my medication, but when I turned the handle, the door didn’t budge. It was locked. From the outside. Panic flared in my chest, competing with the pain. I fumbled for my phone and dialed Madeline. “Madeline… the stomach pain is back. The door is locked… I can’t get out. Please, you have to come back.” Madeline’s voice came through the line, cold and saturated with exhaustion. “Silas, enough. The awards ceremony today is a massive deal for the university. Stop acting out for attention.” “Madeline!” a fresh wave of pain made me cry out. “It’s real. I think it’s an acute flare-up. Please!” “Again with this!” her voice rose. “Are you really trying to ruin the ceremony? Is this your plan? You were so quiet last night just so you could pull this stunt now?” “Madeline, I’m not—” The pain spiked, stealing my voice. I doubled over, and a warm, metallic liquid surged up my throat. I coughed, and a spray of blood splattered across the white duvet. She started to say something else, but a younger, familiar voice broke in from her end. “Is Professor Miller okay? Is your husband causing trouble again?” Tristan asked, his tone dripping with fake concern. “Maybe you should go home, Madeline. You don’t have to stay for me…” “Ignore him,” Madeline said, her voice softening as she spoke to him. “The work comes first.” The sounds of the faculty lounge—laughter, the clink of glasses—swelled in the background. Then, she hung up. I fought for breath. I dialed 911. But as I tried to stand, my legs gave way. I collapsed into the pool of my own blood, tears streaming down my face. The paramedics arrived fast. When they kicked in the door, they found me unconscious in a red sea. I was out for an entire day. The doctor told me it was acute gastritis complicated by stress-induced myocarditis. If I’d been found an hour later, I wouldn’t have made it. Madeline was sitting by my bed when I woke up, clutching my hand, her face a mask of tears. “Silas, I’m so sorry. I’m a monster, a complete idiot!” she sobbed. “I was just so scared that seeing me on stage with Tristan would trigger you… forgive me, honey. Do it for the baby.” The last time I’d seen her cry like this was at our wedding. She’d held me tight and promised to love me for a lifetime. Everything was different now. The woman in front of me was a stranger wearing the skin of the girl I used to love. I stared at the ceiling, feeling a strange, sudden sense of relief. After coming so close to death, the need to force this marriage to work simply evaporated. The buzzing of her phone broke the silence of her confession. It was Tristan. To prove her loyalty, she immediately hit the speakerphone and barked into the receiver, “Tristan, I told you! Stop calling me!” The voice on the other end was shaky, hesitant. “Professor… the results came back. The baby… it’s mine.” My heart didn’t just skip a beat; it felt like it stopped entirely. “I won’t harass you,” the boy continued. “But as the mother, I thought you had a right to know.” My hands curled into fists, my lips trembling so hard I had to bite them to stay still. The child. It wasn’t mine. Madeline hung up instantly, her face a ghastly shade of grey. She looked at me, her eyes filled with a pathetic, desperate terror. “Silas… the baby… he’ll only ever know you as his father. I swear.” I started to laugh. It was a jagged, broken sound. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes. “Madeline,” I whispered. “I want a divorce.” “No! No divorce!” Madeline stood up, lunging forward to wrap her arms around me. “Silas, I love you. Don’t say that. Please.” I ripped her hands away, the IV in my arm tugging painfully. “Then let’s go. Right now. We’re walking down to the OB-GYN wing, and I’m going to watch you terminate that pregnancy.” Madeline closed her eyes, trembling. “Tristan… he has severe clinical depression, Silas. He told me if I get rid of the baby, he… he’ll kill himself. I can’t have that on my conscience.” “And what about me?” I grabbed a glass of water from the bedside table and hurled it at her. It shattered against her shoulder, soaking her blouse. “I’m just supposed to wear the horns and raise another man’s child? I’m supposed to play house with the woman who let my mother’s son rot while she chased a student?” Her phone buzzed again. A text from Tristan. She looked at it, her face going pale. “Madeline, I can’t do this anymore. I’m ending it. Goodbye…” Madeline’s composure shattered. Without a word to me, without a second glance, she grabbed her coat and sprinted out of the hospital room. I watched her go. The silence she left behind was heavy. My mother, who had been waiting in the hallway, came in and took my hand. Her eyes were full of a mother’s fierce, protective sorrow. “My boy. No more. We aren’t taking this anymore.” “Divorce her, Silas,” she said firmly. “I’m going back to the house to pack your things.” But the next time I heard my mother’s voice, it wasn’t a call for help. It was the sound of her soul breaking over the phone. “Silas! The house… Madeline sent people. They’re tearing down the old cottage in the valley!” My heart felt like it had been lanced. That cottage… my father had built it with his own two hands, stone by stone. It was all my mother had left of him. “She’s demolishing it, Silas! She says it’s ‘unsafe’!” I called Madeline, my hands shaking so violently I nearly dropped the phone. “How dare you?” I screamed. “How dare you touch that house? My parents treated you like their own daughter!” Madeline’s voice was ice-cold. “If I had been one second later, Tristan would have swallowed a bottle of Xanax, Silas. Your mother called the Dean. She tried to get him expelled, tried to destroy his life. She almost killed him!” “The cottage is gone. It’s for the best. Now your mother will have to move into the city, where I can keep an eye on both of you.” Ten years of marriage, and I finally understood her. She wasn’t just cruel; she was a warden. She wanted to cut off every exit, to force my family to live under her thumb, beholden to her “mercy.” “Madeline,” I hissed, “I hope you rot with him.” “You’re being hysterical,” she said, and hung up. I was still in the hospital, tethered to machines. My mother, overwhelmed by the shock and the loss, suffered a massive heart attack an hour later. The blows kept coming, one after another, until I felt numb. I opened my phone and posted the hundredth message. My wife is carrying her lover’s child. How do I make them burn? The post went nuclear. Within hours, it was trending on every major platform. The internet, in its beautiful, terrible collective rage, found Madeline. They found her university profile, her Instagram, her LinkedIn. She’s a predator. A disgrace to the profession. Check out the ‘happy couple.’ Hope they enjoy hell. Seeing the tide turn was the only thing that gave me a spark of life. I felt a grim, dark satisfaction. Until my account posted a new statement. I’m so sorry, everyone. All of my previous posts were fabrications. I was suffering a mental breakdown. My wife and her student, Tristan, are innocent victims of my delusions. I am deeply sorry for the harm I’ve caused. I tried to log in to delete it. Incorrect Password. Then I remembered. The smashed laptop. Madeline had taken it. She’d used my synced accounts to rewrite the narrative. Then, Madeline posted from her own verified account: Since my pregnancy began, my husband has struggled with paranoid delusions. He’s obsessed with the idea that I’m involved with one of my students. I’ve done everything to help him, including transferring the student to another department, but his condition has worsened. He will be making a public apology soon. Thank you for respecting our privacy during this difficult time. The reversal was instantaneous. The vitriol that had been aimed at her turned on me. You sick old man. Get help and stop ruining a woman’s life. This is pure misogyny. He can’t handle her success, so he invents a scandal. If you’re sick, just die quietly and leave her alone. Before I could process the messages, Madeline called. “Silas. Come to the university tomorrow. You’re going to apologize to Tristan in person.” I was shaking with rage. “Over my dead body.” “He’s innocent in all of this, Silas,” she said, her voice hard. “And the baby is coming whether you like it or not. If you want your mother’s heart surgery to stay on the schedule, if you want her to have a room in this hospital, you will do exactly what I say.” She was using my dying mother’s life as a bargaining chip for her lover’s reputation. I bit my lip until I tasted copper. “Fine,” I whispered. “I’ll be there.” I settled my mother as best I could and took a car to the campus. Tristan was standing behind Madeline, his eyes red, looking like a kicked puppy. When he saw me, he actually had the nerve to rush forward and slap me across the face. “You almost ruined me, Silas! You’re a sick, pathetic man!” The surrounding faculty and students watched with sneers of disgust. Someone was filming, the red ‘Live’ dot glowing on their phone. Madeline looked at me, her eyes warning. “Silas. Apologize.” I swallowed the blood in my mouth. I went to speak, but someone—a student, probably—kicked the back of my knees. I hit the pavement hard, kneeling right at Tristan’s feet. In the scuffle, my shirt caught and tore, exposing the jagged, ugly scar across my back. I’d gotten that scar years ago, shielding Madeline from a mugger with a knife. “Look at him,” someone jeered. “Ugly inside and out. Imagine being married to that.” “Disgusting. No wonder she looked elsewhere in his fantasies.” Madeline looked down at me, a flicker of embarrassment crossing her face. She wasn’t moved; she was just ashamed to be associated with someone so broken. “Silas, don’t look so indignant. You posted a hundred lies. Tristan gave you one slap. Consider it a bargain.” “I’ve wired money to your account for your mother’s bills. Now, we’re even. Don’t ever mention this again.” I hauled myself up, my eyes burning as I looked at her. Even? We would never be even. I suppressed the scream in my throat and rushed back to the hospital to see my mother. When I arrived, the nurses were frantic. She had been moved to the ICU. “She fell,” the nurse told me, her voice trembling. “Down the stairwell. Internal bleeding, multiple fractures. We’re doing everything we can.” The security footage showed it all. It wasn’t a fall. Tristan had been there. He’d pushed her. The blood in my veins turned to liquid nitrogen. I called Tristan, my voice a low, vibrating growl. “You pushed her. I will see you behind bars if it’s the last thing I do.” But it was Madeline who answered his phone. “Don’t blame Tristan for this, Silas. He went to the hospital to check on her, and she started screaming at him. He was scared. It was an accident. He barely touched her.” I was past the point of reason. I screamed into the phone, “She’s in surgery for a brain bleed, Madeline! You’re defending a murderer! Do you have a soul?” She hung up. When I tried to call back, I was blocked. I sat outside the ICU for hours, a ghost in a plastic chair. Finally, the surgeon walked out. He didn’t have to say a word. The tilt of his head said it all. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Miller.” The world tilted. The lights blurred into long streaks of white. I doubled over and retched blood onto the hospital linoleum. My mother was gone. The last person who loved me was gone. The hate that surged through me then was more powerful than the pain. I got into a cab and headed straight back to the university. They wanted a madman? Fine. I would give them a goddamn lunatic. When I arrived at the auditorium, Tristan was on stage giving a speech about “resilience.” I didn’t wait. I stormed the stage, grabbed him by the hair, and slammed my fist into his face. “Murderer! I’ll kill you!” The audience erupted. “Ah! Madeline, help me!” Tristan wailed. Madeline charged onto the stage, and before I could move, she kicked me squarely in the stomach—right where my gastritis was most inflamed. “Silas! What is wrong with you? Have you lost your mind?” She shielded Tristan with her body, her face contorted with loathing. “You’re ruining the symposium! You’re destroying everything!” Tristan started sobbing, throwing himself onto his knees, wailing for the crowd. “I can’t do this anymore! He won’t stop! I’ll just kill myself, I’ll end it right now so he can be happy!” I saw the flicker of triumph in his eyes as he ran toward the roof access. By the time the crowd reached the rooftop, Tristan was standing on the outer ledge, swaying. “Tristan, baby, don’t do this,” Madeline pleaded, her voice cracking. “I’m here. I’ll fix it.” Tristan’s face was a masterpiece of manufactured tragedy. “I can’t, Madeline. He’s driving me insane. I’m just a kid from a trailer park, I worked so hard for this, and he’s taking it all away…” From the back of the crowd, I barked out a laugh. “Then jump! Do it!” Slap. Madeline’s hand caught me across the face again. “Shut up, Silas! Are you trying to kill him?” She grabbed me by the hair, dragging me to the edge where Tristan stood. “Kneel,” she hissed. “Kneel and apologize. Swear you’ll never touch him again, or so help me God…” “In your dreams,” I spat. Madeline pulled out her phone. She pulled up the live feed from the funeral home where my mother’s body had just been delivered. She looked at me, her voice a flat, robotic monotone. “I’ll give you ten seconds. If you aren’t on your knees, I’m calling the morgue. I’ll have them dump her body on the sidewalk like trash.” I stared at her, looking for a shred of the woman I’d married. There was nothing. Just a machine. “Five… four…” I looked at the screen. I saw a van pulling up to the back of the morgue. I broke. I fell to my knees in front of that sniveling boy. “I’m sorry,” I choked out, the words like glass in my throat. “It was my fault. I won’t do it again. Please.” Tristan smirked, then looked at Madeline with wide, watery eyes. “Professor… I don’t think he means it.” Madeline grabbed the back of my head and slammed my forehead into the gravel of the roof. Warm blood began to mask my vision. She whispered in my ear, “Just take it, Silas. Just get him down, and then it’s over.” I banged my head against that roof ninety-nine times. When Tristan finally stepped down and wrapped his arms around Madeline, he looked over her shoulder at me with pure, unadulterated venom. But then, the rooftop door burst open. Not with students, but with police.

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