Category: English

“Your insurance card. Let me use it for the paperwork.” Derek was lying in the hospital bed, his face a sickly yellow. I looked at him. “The total treatment is going to be around $120,000,” he said. “My coverage won’t touch that.” “What about your savings?” He was silent. I smiled. A slow, cold thing. Married for five years, living AA for five years. He made $6,000 a month; I made $4,500. Mortgage split fifty-fifty. Living expenses split fifty-fifty. I thought it was called fairness. Until today, when I learned the truth— He had saved $220,000. I had saved $8,000. 1 Three days ago, Derek was diagnosed with lung cancer. Mid-stage. The doctor said we needed surgery immediately, followed by aggressive chemotherapy. “What are the likely costs?” I asked. “Surgery and chemo, conservatively, between $100,000 and $120,000.” My mind went instantly blank. A loud, high-pitched ringing. Derek squeezed my hand. “It’s okay, Ava. We’ll face this together.” I nodded. When we got home, I started to crunch the numbers. My savings: $8,300. Credit card limit: $3,000. Total: a little over $11,000. A drop in the bucket. I called my mother, Eleanor. “Mom, Derek’s sick. We might need to borrow some money.” She didn’t hesitate. “Your father and I have $12,000 in the emergency fund. I’ll transfer it tomorrow.” My throat tightened. That evening, Derek’s mother, Lydia, called. “Ava,” his mother’s voice was anxious, “How are you going to treat Derek’s illness?” “Surgery first, then chemo.” “Do you have enough for the expenses?” “I’m working on it.” Lydia paused for a moment. “Your father-in-law and I have $25,000 set aside. It’s all yours.” A wave of warmth washed over me. “Thank you, Lydia.” After hanging up, I added it all up. My parents’ $12,000, his parents’ $25,000, my $11,000. $48,000. Still short by at least $50,000. I looked at Derek. “How much do you have saved?” He hesitated. “I… I’ll have to check my accounts.” “Roughly?” “Maybe… thirty, forty thousand?” Forty thousand, plus the $48,000 we had. That was $88,000. Still short by a third. I sighed. “I’ll go to the bank tomorrow and see about a personal loan.” Derek didn’t say a word. The next day, I took time off work and rushed between three different banks. The most I could get for a personal loan was $30,000, and the interest rate was brutal. I bit down on my lip and signed the documents. Back at the hospital, Derek was on the phone. “…I know, but now’s not the time… Just leave it there. Don’t touch it…” He quickly ended the call when he saw me walk in. “Who was that?” “A colleague,” he said. “Asking about the diagnosis.” I didn’t think much of it. That evening, I told him about the loan. “$30,000. Thirty-six months to pay it back. It’s going to be $1,000 a month.” Derek frowned. “The interest is that high?” “We don’t have a choice. This is life or death.” He nodded. “Thank you, Ava. I know this is hard.” I took his hand. “We’re husband and wife.” He looked at me, his eyes reddening. In that moment, I felt that our five years of AA, of splitting every bill, had been worth it. At least in a crisis, we were in this fight together. But I didn’t know the real ledger—the one I hadn’t seen yet. 2 The surgery was scheduled for three days later. We needed a $30,000 deposit before they would start the procedure. I transferred the entire $30,000 from the new loan. Once the payment went through, I felt a slight easing of the pressure. Around noon, I went home to grab a change of clothes. Derek’s phone was sitting on the nightstand. The screen lit up. A text notification from an account simply labeled “M.” The message read: “$220,000. Confirmed receipt.” I froze. $220,000? What was $220,000? I picked up the phone, my thumb hovering over the screen. It was locked. I tried his birthday. Wrong. I tried our wedding anniversary. Wrong. I tried his mother’s birthday. It opened. I tapped the message thread with “M.” The more I read, the more my hands shook. “Derek, your brokerage account is killing it. Almost double in five years.” “Not bad. Started with $120k. Now it’s $220k.” “Does Ava know?” “No. We’re AA, separate accounts, separate lives. I keep my earnings to myself.” “Smart man. That’s real economic independence.” “Haha. The key is I know how to invest. With her salary, she can’t save much anyway.” I scrolled up. Older messages. “Every month I get my $6,000 paycheck. I send $700 to my mom, put $3,000 into my investment account, and keep $2,300 for myself. It’s perfect.” “What about the mortgage?” “AA, right? She pays half, I pay half. $1,200 each.” “And living expenses?” “Also AA. $600 each.” “So how much does your wife save a month?” “She makes $4,500. $1,200 for the mortgage, $600 for living, $400 for her parents. She spends maybe $800 to $1,000 on herself. She probably saves $1,300 to $1,500.” “So you save $3,700 a month, and she saves $1,500?” “Roughly. But she doesn’t invest, so her money just sits in the bank, earning nothing.” “You’re a piece of work, man.” I put the phone down. My hands were trembling. Five years. He saved $3,700 a month. I saved $1,500 a month. He saved $220,000. I saved $8,000. All because he was a “savvy investor.” And where did my money actually go? I pulled out my own phone and opened my banking app, checking the spending log. Mortgage: $1,200. Check. Living expenses: I realized I paid far more than my $600 share. Groceries, utilities, cleaning supplies, paper towels—I bought all of it. The holiday gifts for his parents, the nice shirts and shoes I bought him. The “joint account” $600 only covered basic produce. Everything else was my personal expense. At least $800 more a month out of my pocket. Plus the $400 for my parents, the travel expenses, and gifts for family gatherings. If I was lucky, I was saving $600 to $800 a month. Five years. I saved $8,000. He saved $220,000. That was his definition of “fairness.” That was AA. I sat on the edge of the bed and laughed out loud. I laughed until the tears started to fall.

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I received a call from a scammer and transferred $10 million to them without hesitation. When the police called to tell me I’d been scammed, I didn’t panic. But my “rich girl” roommate sure did. In my past life, on the first day of the semester, my roommate stole my Black Card and took the whole class to a high-end charity auction, engaging in a bidding war just to show off. She drained over a hundred million dollars from the card, freezing my family’s company assets and pushing us to the brink of bankruptcy. When I confronted her and demanded repayment, she threw herself into my boyfriend’s arms, sobbing. “Maya, you can’t just accuse me because your family is broke!” My boyfriend slapped me across the face and yelled, “Maya, you spent the money yourself! How dare you try to make Chloe take the fall? Have some shame!” When I went to the bank to get the transaction records as evidence, my roommate ran me over with her car. My boyfriend and the entire class testified that I was mentally unstable and had jumped in front of the car myself. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my roommate offered to take the whole class to the auction. Chapter 1 “Hey everyone! Are you free tomorrow? I’m taking the whole class to the charity auction downtown. My treat. Put it all on my card!” Hearing Chloe’s voice, I shivered. I realized instantly that I had been reborn. Suddenly, Chloe linked her arm through mine. “Maya, I heard you have a VIP pass for that auction. Can I borrow it? That way we can all sit in a private box.” Chapter 2 Hearing those words, the phantom pain of being crushed to death flooded back. In my last life, Chloe used the excuse of borrowing my VIP pass to steal the Black Card my dad gave me. I didn’t realize until my dad called, furious, asking why I had drained over a hundred million dollars in one night, cutting off the company’s cash flow. When I confronted Chloe, she cried in my boyfriend’s arms. “Maya, you can’t just frame me because your family is going bankrupt!” My boyfriend, Tyler, slapped me hard. “Maya, have some shame! You spent that money yourself, and now you want Chloe to take the fall?” I went to the bank to get the statements. Chloe ran me over with her car, reversing over my body to make sure I was dead. My parents tried to get justice, but Tyler and the whole class testified for Chloe, claiming I was desperate for money and committed suicide by jumping in front of her car. Thinking of this, rage burned through me. I gripped my handbag tightly and said coldly, “I lost my pass. I can’t lend it to you.” Tyler snatched my bag from my hands, unzipped it, and dumped everything onto the floor. He picked up the gold VIP card lying on the ground and handed it to Chloe. “Here, Chloe. Use this.” Chloe hugged Tyler’s arm, her voice sugary sweet. “Tyler, you’re the best! Thank you so much.” Tyler beamed at her, then looked at me with disgust. “Maya, when did you become such a liar? You clearly had the card. Why didn’t you want to lend it?” I slapped Tyler across the face, then snatched the card back from Chloe. “Tyler, who gave you the right to touch my stuff?” Tyler’s eyes widened in shock. “Maya, are you crazy? Did you just hit me?” I slapped him again. “Yeah, I hit you. So what?” Chapter 3 Chloe immediately stepped in front of Tyler, looking like a martyr. “Maya, it’s all my fault. Blame me if you want, but don’t take it out on Tyler.” I looked at her coldly and slapped her too. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave you out. You two deserve each other. Stop acting like victims in front of me. It’s disgusting.” Tyler’s face turned red with anger. He shoved me hard, knocking me to the ground. My back hit a desk, and I gasped in pain. “Maya, you’ve crossed the line! How dare you hit Chloe!” I rubbed my back and glared at him. “Are you deaf? She asked for it. I was just obliging her.” The other classmates started chiming in. “Maya, that’s too much. You can’t just hit people for no reason.” Chloe was crying hysterically now. “I’m sorry, everyone. Don’t blame Maya. Tyler and I are innocent, he just treats me like a little sister…” Tyler hugged Chloe tightly, comforting her. “Chloe, you’re too kind. You’re being bullied, and you still blame yourself.” I watched them, my fingers trembling with rage. Tyler glared at me. “Maya, drop the spoiled princess act. This is college, not your house. No one is going to pamper you. Give the card to Chloe right now and apologize, or we’re done. I can’t have a girlfriend who acts like a barbarian.” Chapter 4 I laughed out loud. “Fine. We’re done. Go be happy with your precious ‘little sister.’” Chloe looked at me with big, teary eyes. “Maya, don’t be impulsive! You and Tyler have been together for three years. You can’t just break up like this. I’d feel so guilty.” Hearing this made me even angrier at myself for being blind enough to love scum like Tyler for three years. Suddenly, Chloe grabbed my arm. “Maya, how about this? Lend me the VIP card. All the points from our purchases will go to your account. That way you can upgrade your membership status.” Tyler looked at Chloe with admiration. “Chloe, you are literally an angel. She bullies you, and you still look out for her.” Then he turned to me, impatient. “Maya, Chloe is being incredibly generous. Don’t be ungrateful.” I sneered. “No thanks. I can’t afford your ‘kindness.’” A flash of malice crossed Chloe’s eyes, but she hid it quickly. “Maya, I really want to use this chance to bond with the class. If you lend me the card, I’ll buy you two items from the auction. Anything you want. Consider it a rental fee.” The classmates gasped. “Maya, take the deal! Auction items start at like ten grand. Chloe is giving you two for free! You’re making a killing!” “Plus you get the points! It’s a win-win. Why are you refusing?” Tyler mocked me. “Maya, you’re just greedy, aren’t you? Only Chloe is nice enough to tolerate you. Take the offer before she changes her mind.” Chapter 5 I rolled my eyes. “Do you guys not understand English? I said no. I don’t want to lend my card.” Chloe’s expression darkened. The next second, she wiped her tears and turned to the class, looking devastated. “I’m so sorry, everyone. I wanted to take you all to the auction to bond, but Maya is unhappy about it. I guess we can’t go. I shouldn’t have promised anything.” She burst into tears and collapsed into Tyler’s arms. Tyler looked at me with pure hatred. He slapped me across the face, then kicked me in the stomach. I curled up on the floor, gasping for air. “Maya, you did this on purpose! You just can’t stand seeing Chloe do well! You think you’re so special because your family has money, walking around in designer clothes. Now that you know Chloe is rich enough to treat the whole class, you’re jealous!” A classmate grabbed a water bottle and threw it at my head. “Maya, have some shame! We finally had a chance to see the high life, and you ruined it!” “Just because you carry last season’s Chanel bag, you think you’re better than us?” Chapter 6 “You’re so ‘rich,’ but you only ever bought us Starbucks. Do you think we’re beggars?” She splashed her leftover soda on my face. Others followed suit, dumping their drinks on me. In an instant, I was soaked and humiliated. I struggled to my feet, grabbed a chair, and smashed it on the floor. Everyone jumped back, cursing at me. “Maya, are you crazy?” I ignored the pain and pulled out my phone, dialing 911. “Yes, I’d like to report an assault. A group attack. The address is…” Hearing me call the police, Tyler rushed over and smashed my phone on the ground. “Maya, are you sick? You actually called the cops?” I glared at him. “You dared to hit me. Why wouldn’t I call the cops?” Tyler raised his hand to hit me again. I looked him dead in the eye. “Touch me one more time. Every hit is just more evidence.” The police arrived in ten minutes. The professor ran in behind them. The police saw it as a minor dispute since I wasn’t seriously injured and suggested a settlement. The professor glared at me, warning me not to make a scene. I demanded $1,000 from each person involved for emotional distress. The police agreed. The class started cursing me out. The officer looked at them coldly. “Settle privately, or go to court and get a criminal record. Your choice.” They all shut up and reluctantly transferred the money. $1,000 was half a month’s living expenses for most of them. It hurt them. After the police left, I picked up my stuff. My bank cards were still there. I sighed in relief, went back to the dorm to change, and called the professor to move off-campus. As I was packing to go home, I noticed my bag had been rifled through again. But nothing seemed to be missing.

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At our wedding, Damian’s “one that got away” crashed the ceremony in a bridal gown. “Damian, if you still love me, leave with me right now.” Damian didn’t hesitate. He took her hand. He left me standing there alone, facing a sea of pity and ridicule. Everyone thought I would be devastated, that my world would end. Little did they know… My “one that got away” had just come back, too. Damian was just a cheap knockoff. I didn’t need him anymore. 1 I was with Damian for seven years. But nobody thought we’d actually make it down the aisle. It was an open secret in our social circle: Damian was only with me because I was a dead ringer for his first love, Heather. When we first started dating, he would stare at me, lost in a trance. When he got drunk, he’d whisper while looking at my face, “Heather, I love you.” But Heather had gone to Europe and married someone else. I am Sierra. So, the person he loved wasn’t me. But I didn’t care. When he called out the wrong name, I corrected him, patiently, over and over again. He loved rare scotch, so I traveled the world to fill his cellar. He liked the look of black hair and white dresses, so I stopped dyeing my hair and filled my closet with pale silk and chiffon. Everyone said I was obsessed with Damian. My friends tried to warn me. “Don’t waste your youth on him, Sierra.” Heather had once saved his life. First love, married away, life-saver. She had the “tragic heroine” buff stacked to the max. “Back then, Damian loved her loud and proud. When Heather got married, Damian practically flatlined in the hospital from the stress.” “Sierra, to be blunt, he’s just using your face to mourn her.” “You guys have no future. Cut your losses.” I ignored them all. For seven years, I played the perfect partner. And eventually, Damian seemed moved by it. On my twenty-seventh birthday, he proposed. Under the soft glow of the chandelier, in a white tuxedo, he knelt on one knee. He looked devastatingly handsome. “Sierra, will you marry me?” His eyes were swimming with tenderness. It looked like love. My gaze lingered on the corner of his eye as I smiled gently. “Yes.” That night, he held me tight, whispering that he loved me. I thought it was real. But three days before the wedding, Heather got divorced. And Damian didn’t come home all night. 2 That night, I called Damian non-stop. Eventually, I got a text back. Not from him. “He’s asleep. What do you want?” Attached was a photo. Heather, with her dark hair splayed over her shoulders, her neck covered in hickeys, a post-coital flush on her cheeks. And Damian, sound asleep in her arms. It was obvious what they had been doing. My heart gave a little jump. I typed back: “Where is he?” A voice memo came back instantly: “Still haven’t given up? Come see for yourself then.” Then came the address. It was Heather’s penthouse. When I arrived, Heather opened the door. She was wearing flimsy lingerie. She looked me up and down and scoffed. “You really do look like me. No wonder Damian kept you around.” “But now that the real thing is back, it’s time for the cheap knockoff to exit the stage.” Her tone was pure arrogance. I frowned slightly. “Where is he…” Before I could finish, Damian walked out from behind her. He was holding his suit jacket, which he draped naturally and intimately over Heather’s shoulders. “Heather, you’re barely wearing anything. You’ll catch a cold…” When he saw me, he froze. “Sierra? What are you doing here?” Damian was fully dressed. He didn’t look like he’d just woken up at all. Whatever was in that photo was staged. It hit me instantly. This was a setup by Heather. She wanted to provoke me, make me lose my cool so she could play the victim and gain Damian’s sympathy. But she underestimated how calm I could be. I looked up and saw the flash of disappointment in Heather’s eyes. Damian noticed me staring at her and stepped in front of me, his voice hard. “Sierra, I’m taking you home.” I glanced at him and turned to leave. But Heather grabbed Damian’s hand, looking up at him with wide, teary eyes. “You aren’t staying? I’m scared to be alone.” I looked back. Damian looked at me, then at Heather. Finally, he peeled her hand off his arm. “I need to take Sierra home first.” In that moment, he chose me. It seemed that to him, I was more important than Heather. But on the drive back, he was distracted. The silence was heavy until a piercing ringtone shattered it. “Damian! Get to the hospital! Heather just tried to kill herself!” 3 That day, Damian kicked me out of the car on the side of the highway. It was pouring rain. When I finally got home, I was soaked to the bone, shivering uncontrollably. I wrapped myself in a duvet and stared at a photo on my phone. My finger traced the small beauty mark—a teardrop mole—under the man’s eye. I touched the screen gently, afraid I might startle him. I drifted into a feverish sleep and dreamt of my sophomore year of high school. The mid-term results were posted. I was Valedictorian again. Standard procedure. But then, a boy blocked my path and extended his hand. “Hi, Sierra. I’m Jax. I’m the guy who’s been stuck in second place behind you for eternity. Maybe you’ll remember me this time.” He was handsome, with eyes that crinkled into crescents when he smiled. The sunlight hit him from behind, giving him a golden halo. I couldn’t look away. Before graduation, we lay on the school rooftop, staring at the blue sky. He said, “Sierra, my dream is to be a cop. To serve the people… and to be on call for you, 24/7.” Later, I saw him in his uniform, standing tall as a pine tree, looking at me with that familiar gentleness. “Sierra, when I get back from this mission, let’s get married.” But he never came back. It has been ten years. I woke up crying. Outside, the sky was pitch black. The moonlight spilled through the window. I reached out to grab it, but my hand closed around empty air. I suddenly felt… That the thing I cared about most, I would never get back. I curled up on the bed, my heart aching physically. My hand gripped my phone tight. Like I was holding onto the last shred of light. “Jax…” 4 Damian came home the day before the wedding. I was at the bridal salon, trying on my dress. When the curtains pulled back, there he was. He looked at me with genuine awe. “Sierra, you look beautiful today.” I smiled politely, but my eyes were fixed on my reflection in the mirror. There was no joy in them. On the ride home, the car was silent. I watched Damian’s reflection in the window. My gaze settled on his sleek, sharp eyes. There was no mole under his eye. He wasn’t Jax. A wave of bitterness washed over me. I knew Jax could never be replaced, not really. But I had been clinging to Damian like a lifeline anyway. Even though his heart belonged to someone else. I suddenly spoke up. “Damian, since Heather is back, maybe we should cancel the wedding. You still love her…” He cut me off sharply. “I don’t love her.” I froze. I looked into his eyes. He seemed incredibly serious. “The one I love now is you, Sierra. I was only helping her because I owed her for saving my life.” My heart trembled. Shocked. “Really?” He nodded without hesitation. “Really.” He repeated it several times. I didn’t know if he was trying to convince me, or himself. I looked at his face for a long time. Finally, I sighed.

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Ash Rhodes chased me for five years. The day after I finally said yes, I scrolled past a post from his childhood friend. [Ten years of secret love, finally over.] [My best friend since childhood is in a relationship. But it’s not with me.] [We were a story of missed timing and near misses. The most intimate we ever were was that kiss I stole when he was drunk.] [It’s a strange feeling, letting go of a decade of emotion. I’m heartbroken, but I’m also happy for him.] [If I had been the one to give him that piece of candy back then, would I be the one he loves now?] The comments section was full of people commiserating over her decade of silent heartbreak, admiring her dedication and the courage to finally let go. Ash’s reply sent the post’s engagement through the roof. He wrote: [I would.] I stared at that one word and let out a soft breath. Well, there was my reason to break up with him. 1 I sent the post link to Ash. “We’re done. I’m letting you have your ten-year-delayed happy ending.” Then I blocked him. It felt like a massive stone had been lifted from my chest. When I agreed to date him yesterday, I saw the shock in his eyes, and I definitely didn’t miss the flicker of regret that followed. He hadn’t seemed all that thrilled by my “yes.” But then, just as quickly, he’d squeezed my hand and pulled me into a tight hug. I instantly tensed up, biting back the urge to pull away, trying to coach myself. I said yes. Just try it. Maybe the feelings will come later. I woke up the next morning thinking: I want to break up. I simultaneously condemned myself as a terrible person while searching a popular social app for “how to dump your one-day-old boyfriend without seeming like a monster.” But soon, my attention was snagged by the bizarre, brightly colored world of other posts, and I forgot what I’d opened the app for. There was one post, ten thousand likes and climbing, with comments lamenting a ten-year crush. I glanced at the poster’s profile picture and my heart gave a jump. I switched to my texts. Ash’s profile picture was his Samoyed, the same dog his childhood friend had done a digital painting of for him. He’d sent me the artwork a while back, joking: “Serena Price loves all this over-the-top stuff. I still think your drawing style is better.” I’d been busy then, took a quick look, and didn’t reply. He had changed the subject shortly after. That artwork was warm and vibrant. I remembered it well. It was identical to the profile picture on the post. My suspicions piqued, I checked the IP address and clicked on the top reply—Ash’s infamous “I would.” The reply’s content was empty, but his saved bookmarks were full of restaurants Ash had once shared with me. I froze for a moment. The top commenter was the boyfriend I’d just officially confirmed. The poster was my new boyfriend’s childhood friend. They had a decade of painful history, a tragic missed connection. It was truly a shame. Could I, a genuinely good person, stand by and watch this tragedy unfold right in front of me? My lips curved into a wild smile as I typed a new comment: “Oh my God, that’s terrible! You should have said something sooner. I was already rooting for you guys!” “It’s not too late. I’m breaking up with him right now. You two are meant to be. Congrats on your forever!” 2 After sending Serena my blessing and blocking Ash, I crawled back into bed for a proper rest. Regret over saying yes to him yesterday had kept me up all night. Now, with my conscience clear, I fell into a deep sleep the moment my head hit the pillow. It felt like only minutes had passed when a relentless pounding on the door and the frantic ringing of the doorbell woke me up. I walked to the entryway, my face wooden and a fire of pure irritation burning inside me. I peeked through the security hole and saw two figures. A frantic Ash. A despondent Serena Price. I checked my phone. The Threads app was blowing up with messages. The “tea” was boiling over, and strangers were flooding my DMs. My blocked number was getting an endless stream of calls and texts. All of them were Ash begging me to reconsider. I grabbed a handful of my hair in exasperation. What the hell? They finally got their wish. Why weren’t they making out somewhere instead of showing up at my door to whine? The banging switched to knocking. Ash yelled, “Sky, it’s not what you think! I only love you!” The moment he yelled my name, I pictured how I’d have to face my neighbors later, the strange looks and the whispers. “Yeah, that’s her. The one with the crazy drama on her doorstep. Tsk, tsk.” A chill ran down my spine. I flung the door open. “Shut up!” Ash’s eyes immediately lit up. “Sky, I brought Serena here so we could explain. There’s nothing between us. We’re just friends.” Serena, red-eyed and pale, managed a bitter smile and a nod. “He’s right. Just friends.” But my focus was entirely on— My nosy neighbor’s door, which had just creaked open a crack. 3 I didn’t want to bring them inside. I was terrified that if they got too emotional, I’d end up as a neighborhood news item. So, I kept the door open, letting my neighbor eavesdrop to their heart’s content. “Okay, are you done explaining? Anything else?” I hissed, urging them in a low voice, “If that’s it, then please leave. I’m begging you.” Ash’s face was even more anguished than mine. He grabbed my hand desperately. “Please don’t break up with me. It’s all a misunderstanding. Serena doesn’t have feelings for me anymore. Nothing is ever going to happen between us. We grew up together. I only think of her like a sister. If I had ever…” The line was so cliché I couldn’t help but interrupt. “If you had ever, you’d be together already, and I wouldn’t be standing here, would I?” Ash was speechless. Serena’s face paled further. She stared blankly at the ground, then suddenly spoke up. “He’s right. I don’t love Ash anymore.” That declaration made Ash flinch. His expression turned dark, a hint of genuine anger lurking beneath the surface. He forced a smile for me. “See? Sky, you heard her. I’m completely innocent. I chased you for five years. You know how I feel.” I leaned against the doorframe, watching their subtle, dramatic exchange. Such touching melodrama. “The kind of innocent that involves stolen kisses?” Ash frowned, looking at Serena. “I had no idea she did that. It was something she did in secret.” Serena stubbornly fought back tears. “It’s true. On his birthday this year, he was drunk, and I kissed him while I was taking care of him. He didn’t know.” I’d been at Ash’s birthday party this year. It was loud, with tons of friends. But I hated the atmosphere, the way everyone kept trying to push Ash and me together, so I made an excuse and left early. A thought struck me, referencing her post. “Ash, you love me because of that candy—you’d love anyone who offered you kindness when you were at your lowest. Your reply to Serena confirms that you’re still looking for that feeling, no matter who offers it. You’re not completely over her.” A flicker of hope crossed Serena’s eyes. Ash vehemently denied it. “No! I only said I would to comfort her! I swear, if I had even an ounce of romantic feeling for her…” “Stop it!” Serena’s shout was louder than my earlier command to “shut up.” The neighbor’s door even shuddered slightly. Ash looked at Serena in surprise. Serena took a deep, shaky breath, looked at me, and her expression became one of absolute resolve. “I will never see Ash again. If I ever try to have a relationship with him, I’ll swear to whatever curse you want. Are you satisfied?” I frowned. “I already told you I broke up with him…” She closed her eyes, wiping away a tear. “If you’re satisfied, then stop this whole drama. He truly, genuinely cares about you.” Serena didn’t look at Ash again. She simply turned and walked away. Ash watched her retreating back, lost in thought for a long moment. I couldn’t take it anymore. “Does she not understand basic English?” My remark made Ash turn back. His eyes were tired, and his voice was raw. “There. Sky, are you satisfied now?” I took a deep breath. “Fine. I’ll admit it. The post isn’t the only reason I broke up with you. The truth is, I just don’t like you that much. And you clearly still have some kind of feelings for Serena, don’t you? I’m bowing out. You two get together. It’s a win-win-win. Everyone’s happy, right?” The fatigue vanished from Ash’s face. It turned an unhealthy shade of green. “What did you say? You don’t like me?” I guess I couldn’t get out of this without revealing myself as the bad guy. I nodded weakly. “Yes. I know I’m not a great person, but you and Serena weren’t exactly innocent, either. Pot calling the kettle black. Let’s just call it even and move on!” Ash looked at me, utterly disbelieving. “You’re saying you don’t like me?” Me: … 4 A string of muffled laughter came from behind the neighbor’s door. The person inside tried to cover it up. “That main character is a total zero, tsk.” I coughed loudly, and the neighbor finally closed the door. Ash’s face was grim, his body faintly trembling. I was genuinely afraid he might try something, and I slowly shuffled backward into my apartment. Ash clenched his fists, staring deeply at me. “I know you’re upset about Serena’s post. You don’t have to make up excuses. I’m giving you time to think clearly.” He turned and walked away, his posture just as resolute as Serena’s. I stood silently for a moment. I went back to my room, miserable, and opened my phone. My Threads DMs were flooded with drama-hungry strangers. I clicked on Serena’s post. It had been updated ten minutes ago. [Yes, I loved him for ten years, but that doesn’t mean I’m willing to be a prop in their little drama. Do they need to insult me to prove their relationship is real?] [Ten years, I was completely blind.] [My love gave him a filter. Now that the love is gone, he’s nothing special.] [Since it’s come to this, I wish you a long and happy life together. Your business is no longer mine. Stop bothering me.] Every sentence was a targeted blow. The mob was already coming for me. [She had a secret crush, and she was letting go. You didn’t have to humiliate her.] [Wifey needs to control her man. She just wanted closure, and your boyfriend was the one who ran over to reply ‘I would.’] [(Insert Viral Reaction GIF here)] Are these people serious? I was so angry I threw a quick set of air punches. I slipped on my house shoes and knocked on the next-door neighbor’s door. The drama-lover on the other side was surprisingly reluctant to open up. I knocked for three minutes before he slowly opened the door. “You two were yelling so loud. Is it my fault I overheard everything…?” I cut him off. “Hurry up. Give me the recording.” The camera by my door was broken; the new one was still in the mail. He paused, glancing at the camera with the blinking red light. “What happened?” I rolled up my sleeve, gritting my teeth. “An epic battle with a pair of total drama llamas. Eight hundred rounds of mutual roasting.” 5 In under three minutes, I received a video file from Dean Wallace. A gamer’s hands are certainly fast. I walked back toward my place, downloading the file. Dean followed me. “Where did you have this fight? Let me in on it. I’m excellent at trash talk. Hello…” I shut the door on him. Is being the subject of an online witch hunt something to be proud of? I edited the video, censoring the faces, and uploaded it. I tagged Serena and Ash with the caption: “Are you two for real?” Dean’s video only showed Serena walking away. The crowd rushed in: [Classic: ‘She’s just like a sister to me.’] [And the ‘Stop making drama’ line.] [Who exactly was using who as a prop in the end…] [Sending signals to a crush when you have a girlfriend is trashy. Boyfriend is 100% the villain. Confirmed.] [How do we define ‘stolen’ kiss? If you steal it then post about it online, is it really stealing?] [I wanted to say this after the first post: Asking if he would love you instead when he’s currently dating someone is so cringe. Who are you trying to annoy?] I felt the pressure in my chest release a little. I started replying to everyone who had insulted me. [Humiliate? Sweetie, the childhood friends ganged up on me. The nice girl finally fought back.] [Wifey? That’s my ex. Keep calling me that, and you’ll be calling your own husband names.] [(Insert Viral Reaction GIF here)] I was in the middle of my glorious comeback when the system notified me the post had been taken down. A slight regret. My phone started buzzing with texts. I checked. It was Dean Wallace sending me a screenshot. It was Serena’s post. He wrote: [In case you rage-quit, I archived it for you.] This guy was actually experienced at online drama. I sent him a fist-bump emoji: [You’re a man of integrity.] He replied with a reaction GIF. Wait a second. How did he find the post? [How did you find that?] This guy is a tech expert. Did he hack my phone? The thought sent a shiver down my spine. Dean Wallace: [It popped up under ‘Nearby People’ recommendations.] …Oops. I guess my paranoia is a little over the top. 6 My phone started ringing. I have three rules for calls I won’t answer: No answer for numbers without a contact name. No answer for suspected spam or scam calls. No answer for calls I just don’t want to take. This call met all three criteria. I waited for it to go to voicemail. I let out a sigh of relief. The next second, it rang again. I bit my finger, waiting for it to automatically hang up. I sighed again. Then the number sent me a text message: [No one is innocent in this online war, but you’re the culprit. Aren’t you afraid you’ll wake up screaming in the middle of the night?] Attached was a photo of a rooftop taken from a downward angle. Did I commit a federal crime by dating someone for half a day? Relationships are my doom. I immediately unblocked Ash and sent him a screenshot of the text: [Your childhood friend is about to jump off a roof.] Then I called the police. The photo included a landmark, so the location wouldn’t be hard to find. I changed clothes and headed out, running into Dean Wallace as he was going to take out the trash. He looked surprised. “What’s the occasion? The Mole has surfaced?” I work from home, and my work attire is pajamas. I barely leave the apartment once a month. I gave him a look, like I’d just tasted something foul. “I’m about to go down without taking the stairs or the elevator.” Dean looked thoughtful. “The Bat-Woman.” I quickly walked toward the elevator. “I’m not the one flying. Someone is about to jump.” Dean grabbed his trash bag and hurried after me. “Who? The Ten-Year-Crush, or The ‘Will’ Guy?” I pressed the elevator button. “The Ten-Year-Crush.” I bit my tongue. What terrible nicknames. And I was using them, too. Dean followed me into the elevator and immediately pressed the button for the underground parking garage. “You’re taking the trash to the garage?” He looked at me righteously. “Is trash more important than a human life? Trust me, if I didn’t love gaming more, I’d be a race car driver.” I glanced at him. The words thrill seeker were practically glowing above his head. But I didn’t call him out. I got into the passenger seat of his car. He threw the trash bag in the back seat. With one step on the gas pedal, we were off like a shot. I was the first to arrive. On the rooftop, Serena was sitting on the ledge. I spoke hesitantly. “Serena, it’s not worth it for any man. Really.” Serena looked out at the distance and spoke softly. “Do you know how long I loved him? Ten years… How many decades does a person get? And now that entire decade of devotion has become a source of shame.” “Do you know how crushed I was when I found out he liked you? But you don’t even appreciate him. What I desperately wished for, you treat with indifference…” “Five years. I watched him pursue you for five years, and you never said yes. I waited and waited, hoping he would finally give up on you. But you changed your mind, and my hope was crushed all over again.” I licked my lips. What comforting words could a reclusive mole person possibly offer? I nudged Dean with my elbow. He nodded at me, giving me a determined look. Hope surged in my chest, and then I heard him say: “You’re waiting for him to finally notice you, right? If you jump, what you’re really waiting for is for him to come visit your grave every year.”

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My job was office provisioning, specifically the daily afternoon pick-me-up. The budget? Five dollars per person. To maintain the company’s image of sophistication and generosity, I hunted down coupons, negotiated bulk discounts, and leveraged every deal I could find, somehow making that five dollars feel like fifty. Then, the bomb dropped. Veronica Jensen, the Director of Operations, sent a message to the company’s five-hundred-person Slack channel, tearing into the artisanal boba tea I’d purchased. She called it “unhealthy,” an “unauthorized, no-name brand,” and—the thinly veiled accusation that hit hardest—she publicly suggested I was taking kickbacks, ordering me to write a formal letter of self-criticism. The entire office’s gaze shifted, their expression curdling with suspicion. I laughed, but only in my head. You give me a Dollar Store budget and expect a Fifth Avenue experience? Fine. Don’t blame me when I give you the bulk-buy, bottom-shelf reality. 1 At three-fifteen that afternoon, the office was permeated with the sweet, creamy scent of tea. “Anya, this boba is incredible! Where did you even find this place?” “Seriously, the taro is so velvety. One hundred times better than those big chains!” I watched the satisfied smiles of my colleagues, and the tight knot in my stomach finally eased. I’d practically worn out the soles of my shoes tracking down this new, independent tea shop near the office. Its decor was small-batch and artisan, but the ingredients were premium. I’d charmed and haggled with the owner, securing a massive internal discount in exchange for guaranteed, large-volume, long-term business. Seeing everyone so happy made all the effort feel worthwhile. Amidst the chorus of praise, my phone screen flashed. The company-wide Slack channel. I clicked it open, still smiling. The next second, the blood drained from my face. The message was from Veronica Jensen. @Anya. Regarding the procurement for today’s afternoon perk, I have several serious concerns. First, the sugar content of this tea does not align with the company’s commitment to employee wellness. Second, why was an obscure, non-standard vendor chosen over established, hygienic, and brand-appropriate chains? The choice of vendors must reflect the professional image of this company. Anya, please prepare a detailed statement addressing these issues, including whether there were any unauthorized procurement processes or—most seriously—any misappropriation of company funds. I expect it on my desk by 9 AM tomorrow. Misappropriation of funds? The phrase echoed in the sudden, deafening silence of the office. My colleagues, who moments ago were raving about the creamy taro, were now hunched over their keyboards, fingers flying across the keys in a sudden, fake frenzy of work. Veronica’s words were a poison dart. She hadn’t said kickbacks directly, but “improper protocols” and “misappropriation” were enough to paint a vivid picture. She was publicly assassinating my character in front of five hundred people. The replies were already piling up beneath hers. Is that Anya from Admin? She always seemed so sweet, but wow… Over a few cups of coffee? Seriously? The whispers started immediately, coming from every corner of the cubicle farm. I couldn’t make out the specifics, but I felt the weight of their scrutiny—the suspicion, the judgment, and the subtle, cold contempt—pricking my back. I thought of the months of hustling. The endless energy spent trying to maintain a precarious balance: the company’s pathetic budget versus its lofty demands for “image.” The Five-Dollar Rule. For months, it had never changed. I chose that small artisanal vendor precisely because independent owners were more willing to negotiate outside of corporate price sheets. How else could I buy anything beyond a cheap soda at that price? Six months ago, when I inherited this ridiculous task, the outgoing HR rep handed me a ledger. The budget was highlighted in bold red: $5.00 per person/per day. Five dollars. For the first month, I spent every night running mental calculations on what five dollars could possibly buy. I sweet-talked the manager at the corner bakery, leveraging the promise of our large, stable corporate account for an “employee-only” discount. My phone was loaded with every delivery and coupon app imaginable, and I set a dozen different daily alarms for “Flash Sales” and “Limited-Time Bulk Offers.” I was constantly fronting money myself to meet minimum order requirements for discounts. I had been scrimping and hustling, turning a starvation budget into a genuine perk. All that effort, all the personal money I had fronted, the sheer, exhausting mental energy, had been reduced to three insults in one message: low quality, unhealthy, and corrupt. The same colleagues who had called me “Queen Anya” and praised the treats as “better than Google’s” were probably now in their private chats debating how much money I had managed to skim. Veronica’s personal message popped up. Anya, don’t forget to write the self-criticism. You’ll be delivering it to the entire staff at the morning meeting. I took a deep breath, pulled up my procurement logs for the day, and marched to her office. Veronica was lounging back in her leather chair, wearing a sheet mask and looking utterly relaxed. She didn’t even lift her chin when I knocked. “Is the statement written?” she asked, her voice muffled. “Director Jensen.” I laid the folder on her desk, trying to keep my voice even. “Regarding the concerns in the chat, I’d like to explain. This vendor has all the necessary health and operating permits, and the sugar levels are customizable.” “I chose them because they were the only vendor willing to supply us within the mandated budget. All the ‘established brands’ exceed the five-dollar limit by two or three times. I simply couldn’t negotiate them down.” I finished, my chest heaving slightly. She picked up the folder, flipped through a few pages, and tossed it back onto the desk. She leaned back, folding her hands over her stomach. “Anya, you’re missing the point.” “The company pays you to solve problems, not tell me how difficult they are. Everything you’ve just said is an excuse.” I raised my voice, unable to help it. “The budget is the problem! I’ve done everything I could within the constraint. All the records are here—” Veronica cut me off, her tone sharp with impatience. “That is your failure! Are you questioning the company budget?” I stood my ground. “I am stating a fact.” Her voice became thin and grating. “When the budget is insufficient, you find a solution, not lower the standard! As an Administrator, failing to secure resources is professional negligence!” “The entire company is talking about how Admin is buying low-grade junk food. Do you know the damage this causes to our reputation?” “Per policy, you will forfeit this month’s entire performance bonus, plus a fine of three hundred dollars.” My head buzzed. Three hundred dollars. I was planning to ask for an advance for my mother’s surgery next month. Veronica’s lips curled into a slow, satisfied smile. She leisurely picked up her water tumbler. “Of course, the company is not without compassion.” “You have two options. One: you present a deeply remorseful public apology at the morning meeting, admit your error, and the matter is closed. Two: you go to accounting and pay the fine immediately.” I looked at her face—smug, victorious—and my hands and feet went ice cold. I couldn’t speak a word. The next morning, I stood at the front of the conference room, clutching that single sheet of paper. Veronica stood beside me, arms crossed, radiating triumph. I took a breath and began to read. “To our leadership and esteemed colleagues, good morning.” “I am here to offer a deep apology for the serious oversight in my work concerning the recent afternoon perk procurement…” With every word I spoke, I felt the hundreds of eyes on me—some pitying, some judging, many simply enjoying the spectacle. As I walked down the aisle, I heard the murmurs. “See? I told you she was taking kickbacks. Why else apologize?” “It’s disgusting. For a few dollars, she ruined her reputation.” “She looked so put-together, you never know who these people really are.” The same people who had called me “Queen Anya” were now judging how much I’d stolen. Back at my desk, I opened my phone, my expression blank. I deleted every item from my saved carts—the artisan yogurts, the craft coffee pods, the specialty pastries. It was three o’clock. Time for the company’s reliable afternoon perk. I appeared right on schedule. My assistant and I wheeled in two flat carts. They were heavy, but the contents were stark. My colleagues looked up, a blend of curiosity and anticipation in their eyes. After yesterday’s drama, they were waiting to see what the newly shamed “kickback girl” would offer up. We opened the boxes and began distributing the items. In moments, every desk held the same exact items: a single bottle of plain bottled water and a small, sealed packet of store-brand chocolate chip cookies. The kind you could find at any gas station. The office plunged into a weird, tense silence. Everyone stared at the generic water and the cheap crackers. A young woman broke the silence, her voice hesitant. “Anya? Is… is this it for today?” I nodded, offering a perfect, professional smile. “Yes.” I gestured to the clear branding on the bottle and the packet. “Strictly adhering to Director Jensen’s directives. It’s purified water—zero sugar, zero calories, perfectly healthy.” “And it’s all major, reputable brands. Absolutely top-tier image. Fully compliant with the five-dollar budget.” After a beat of shock, the low, angry buzz began. The quiet murmurs quickly swelled into open complaining. “Seriously? This is insulting!” “We have a water cooler! Why would I want this?” “I’d rather have that ‘unhealthy’ boba tea again,” another colleague muttered, sounding genuinely upset. “I have no flavor in my mouth! How am I supposed to work all afternoon?” The complaints grew louder, losing all restraint. The noise quickly reached Veronica’s office. She burst out, her face a mask of thunder. She strode right up to my cubicle, pointing a furious finger at the water and cookies. “Anya! What is the meaning of this? Is this some kind of passive resistance?!” “The company tasked you with the afternoon perk, and this is what you call a perk?” I sat quietly at my desk. “Director Jensen, I am strictly executing your requirements.” I pointed to the two bulk boxes. “Each bottle of water cost $1.50. Each packet of cookies cost $3.50. Total: $5.00.” “The water is purified—perfectly healthy. The cookies are chocolate—energy boosting. Both are nationwide, known brands—very reputable.” I paused, emphasizing the final point. “Fully compliant with the budget.” Veronica choked on her anger, her face turning crimson because she knew every word was true. Her rage overwhelmed her logic. “This is childish! You’re throwing a temper tantrum!” “You’re deliberately making everyone miserable!” I didn’t argue. I just softly repeated my core truth. “I am simply following company policy.” Veronica’s accusation echoed through the office. But then, the murmurings shifted again. This time, they were not aimed at me. “Wait, $5.00?” “The budget is only five dollars?” Someone whispered, shocked. “No way. We were getting boba and specialty coffee before that.” “The artisanal snacks… was Anya footing the bill for all of that?” The murmuring colleagues fell silent. A complex mix of shame and dawning realization washed over their faces. Some were discreetly calculating the cost of their previous treats; others avoided my eyes. They were finally realizing the absurdity of a five-dollar-per-person budget. They realized the “employee benefit” they had enjoyed was not corporate generosity. They were finally connecting the dots between their beloved $30 lattes and my disgraced reputation. It turns out, I thought, a cold satisfaction settling in my gut, I was not the fool here.

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Chapter 1 It was the third year since my brother and I were kidnapped and taken to a hellhole in Southeast Asia. His fate was unknown, while I had been tortured into a living corpse. The rotting flesh on my body reeked permanently. The rusted shackles on my ankles had grown into my skin. To fill my stomach, I had fought stray dogs for scraps. After countless failed attempts to escape or call for help, I finally gave up. Despair consumed me. I just wanted to die. But just as I swallowed a handful of stolen pills, waiting for the darkness to take me, I heard an argument outside my cell. “She’s your own sister! You ruined her future after she got into Stanford just for that charity case you took in. Why do you have to torture her like this?” Suddenly, my missing brother, Liam, kicked the door open and scooped me up. His voice was frantic, yet filled with anger. “She knew I’d always provide for her, that grades didn’t matter. But she just had to show off and score higher than Vanessa, triggering her depression again. I’m just teaching her a lesson. I needed to humble her.” “Vanessa graduates in a month. I was going to take Riley home then anyway. A little suffering builds character. What’s the big deal?” The realization hit me like a physical blow. No wonder… no wonder I risked my life searching the entire compound for him and never found a trace. It turned out that from the very beginning, this was all his doing. A punishment for upsetting his precious foster sister, Vanessa. I coughed up blood and laughed until tears streamed down my face. Liam, the punishment is about to be over. Forever. And I’m never going home with you. … The smell of antiseptic in the hospital room was suffocating. I stared blankly at the ceiling, my stomach churning with nausea from the charcoal they had pumped into me. Liam pushed the door open, holding my medical chart. Watching the person I had spent three years searching for walk toward me so casually… My pupils trembled. A tsunami of emotions crashed over me. I stiffened my neck, refusing to let the tears fall. He stared at me, suppressing his rage. We both knew the score. Neither of us wanted to speak first. Finally, our eyes met. I couldn’t stop my voice from trembling. “Liam…” But my voice only ignited his fury. He slammed the gastric lavage report onto my face. “Riley! Have you made enough of a scene? You knew this was just a punishment, so you swallowed pills to force me to come out? You’d risk your life just to make me feel sorry for you?” “It was just a few years of hardship. I specifically told those people not to permanently damage you. Painting fake wounds on yourself won’t work—it just makes you look pathetic!” I froze in disbelief. The agony stuck in my throat. For three years, I dreamed of finding him. I imagined our reunion a thousand times. I thought I would be excited. I thought I would cry in relief. I never imagined… his first words would be a dismissal of my torture and his habitual distrust. After a few seconds of silence, Vanessa walked into the room. She smiled sweetly and handed me an invitation. “Riley, I’m graduating soon. Come to my party. I don’t blame you for what happened in the past.” I stared at Liam with bloodshot eyes, my hands motionless. Vanessa instantly lowered her head, wiping away a tear. “Liam, it looks like Riley still hates me. Don’t worry about me. Cancel the party. Just take Riley home. I… I’ll leave the family.” Liam’s heart broke instantly. He glared at me, his fists clenching tighter and tighter, until he roared. “Riley! You’re still this stubborn? You still won’t accept Vanessa? You know she has severe depression, yet you still make her cry!” “It seems the punishment wasn’t enough!” Liam immediately ordered his bodyguards to throw me out of the hospital. “Let her suffer on the streets for another month. Maybe then she’ll learn her lesson!” It wasn’t until Liam drove off with Vanessa, the exhaust fumes hitting my face, that I snapped back to reality. I looked blankly at the bustling street. The banners hanging from the lampposts were all celebrating Vanessa’s graduation. The massive screen on the mall across the street was playing a video of Liam’s graduation gift to Vanessa: a chest full of jewelry and two island villas. Passersby were whispering, envious of how much Liam spoiled her. I suddenly laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. Tears flowed uncontrollably. It turned out, during those three years where I lived a life worse than death… During the three years I risked everything to find him… During the three years I prayed for rescue… He was out here, treating Vanessa like a princess. Chapter 2 I wandered the streets aimlessly. My body was covered in hideous scars, and I was wearing a blood-stained t-shirt in the freezing winter wind. Everyone looked at me like I was a monster. But I didn’t care. I just stared at the river in the distance and kept walking. There was a faint sense of relief in my heart. Suddenly, a hand tapped my shoulder. I instinctively dropped to a crouch, covering my head in terror. “Don’t hit me! Please don’t hit me! I’ll be good…” The person frowned, eyes full of confusion. “Riley? Is that really you?” Hearing a familiar voice, I peeked out cautiously. It was Ms. Clarke, my favorite teacher from high school. “What happened to you? Does your brother know? He used to value you more than his own life.” Hearing her words, I let out a self-deprecating laugh. From the day Liam brought Vanessa home, I was no longer the sister he valued more than his life. Back then, Vanessa framed me constantly. Today, I slapped her; tomorrow, I tore her dress; the next day, I orchestrated bullying against her. Every single time, Liam believed her without question and scolded me. When I tried to explain, he would get angry, accusing me of being vicious and a liar. Finally, he slapped me hard across the face. “Riley! I give you this privileged life to give you confidence, not to give you the audacity to bully the weak!” “I’ve spoiled you too much! You need a lesson!” He locked me, knowing I was claustrophobic, in the basement for a week. From then on, I stopped talking to him. For six months, silence. Until I got the highest SAT scores in the state. Liam said he wanted to take me on a graduation trip to make amends. I knew he was trying to coax me. We were siblings, after all. There was no deep hatred. But on the day of the trip, we were bagged and dragged away to that camp abroad. The next day, Liam vanished. I was terrified something had happened to him. I searched the compound even as my flesh was whipped raw. Old scars hadn’t healed before new ones were added. But no matter how much it hurt, I never stopped looking for him. Once, after being branded with a hot iron for running away and nearly fed to the pigs, a kind older woman whispered to me: “Little girl, stop looking. People who disappear here… they’re usually dead.” In that moment, my heart died too. I drowned in guilt. If I hadn’t held a grudge, he wouldn’t have planned this trip to appease me. If it weren’t for me, my brother wouldn’t be dead in this hellhole. I stopped fighting. I numbly accepted the daily beatings. I numbly accepted the scars. I became numb enough to want death. Finally, I found a bottle of sleeping pills. Just as I was about to be free… I heard the truth. A truth more painful than death. Everything I suffered was because I scored higher than Vanessa, triggering her insecurity. It was Liam punishing me because his heart ached for her. As I recounted this to Ms. Clarke, my smile turned grotesque, and the dam holding back my tears broke. Ms. Clarke’s eyes were red. Her lips trembled, trying to speak but failing. Finally, she just hugged me tight. “Tell me what you need. I will do everything in my power to help you.” I shook my head bitterly. “I don’t need anything anymore.” In a way, I was already dead. I didn’t want this empty shell of a body anymore. If Liam hadn’t “saved” me, I would already be free. Chapter 3 No matter how much I refused, Ms. Clarke insisted on buying me a warm coat. She took me for the fullest meal I’d had in three years. Before leaving, she bought me a bag of snacks and told me to call her anytime. Watching her walk away, my heart ached with sourness. Back in school, when Vanessa framed me, my own brother didn’t ask a single question before punishing me. But Ms. Clarke had chosen to believe me. Three years ago, she was the only warmth I had. Unexpectedly, three years later, she still was. A thought sparked in my dead mind. Before I die, I want to repay her. I want to thank her for her help. I decided to buy her a bouquet of flowers. I had no money, and my broken body couldn’t handle labor. So, I walked around collecting plastic bottles and cans to sell. But every time I managed to fill half a bag, someone would snatch it and dump the contents into the river or a dumpster. At first, I chased them, shouted at them, and then resigned myself to starting over. After it happened several times, I finally collected enough cans. I sold them immediately, terrified of another “accident.” Clutching the cash, I bought a single bouquet. Just as I was dialing Ms. Clarke’s number… The flowers were snatched from my hand, thrown to the ground, and crushed under a polished leather shoe. “What are you doing?!” I screamed, lunging forward. The man kicked me aside, sneering. “This is the price of offending Mr. Hart. He paid me a lot of money to watch you. You aren’t allowed to have a single penny.” I froze. I remembered Liam saying he wanted me to suffer a bit more. I still couldn’t believe it. He was my brother! Was he really going to stomp me into the mud for Vanessa? My head buzzed. Without thinking, I grabbed a rental bike and rode straight to the Hart estate. Vanessa’s graduation party was in full swing. It was lively, opulent. I didn’t care about anything. I grabbed a glass of wine and hurled it at Liam. “Was Myanmar not enough?!” My scream silenced the entire party. “Will you only be satisfied when I’m dead?” Liam turned, frowning at me. His tone was cold, casual. “What’s with all this talk of death? I just wanted you to suffer a bit, to smooth out that attitude of yours.” “Enough. Vanessa’s party ends tonight. The punishment ends tomorrow. I’ll bring you home then. I’ll give you whatever you want. Why are you making a fuss over some trash you picked up?” Trash? I looked around the venue. A single bottle of wine here cost thousands. This party cost millions. And all I wanted to live for… was to trade recyclable trash for a bouquet that cost twenty dollars. The things he sneered at were things I had to bleed to obtain. At that moment, Vanessa walked over in a princess gown, glowing. She patted Liam’s back gently, looked me up and down, and sighed. “Riley, everything Liam does is for your own good. Why can’t you understand his good intentions?” Chapter 4 She stepped forward and took my hand, her face a mask of innocence. “Today is my graduation party. Since you’re here, celebrate with me. I won’t hold your past bullying against you.” “For Liam’s sake, I hope we can get along in the future.” Just then, my phone buzzed. It was Ms. Clarke returning my call. I stared at the screen, about to answer. Vanessa suddenly shrieked, slapping the phone out of my hand. “Ah! Riley! Why are you still in contact with Ms. Clarke? Are you two plotting how to hurt me again?” Before I could react, she started bowing to me frantically, acting like a terrified victim. “I’m sorry! Riley, I shouldn’t be in the Hart family. I shouldn’t be an eyesore to you. I understand now… only if I die will you be satisfied!” She turned, wiping fake tears, and ran toward the river opposite the villa. Chaos erupted. Liam’s face went pale with terror. He sprinted after Vanessa without hesitation. Just as Vanessa climbed onto the railing, Liam tackled her, pulling her back to safety. She wept in his arms like a fragile flower. “Liam, why did you save me? Why won’t you let me die? I don’t want to relive that nightmare. Only death will set me free.” Liam’s eyes were red. Along with his heartache for her, there was an intense rage directed at me. He choked back tears, comforting Vanessa. Then he turned, marched over to me, and slapped me across the face with all his strength. “Riley! Wasn’t it enough that you and that teacher bullied Vanessa into depression back in school?” “You just got back, and you’re already trying to kill her! You are incurable!” My head snapped to the side. I clutched my burning cheek, standing there, stunned. Why? Why is it always my fault? I didn’t do anything! I looked up, a trace of stubbornness in my eyes. “I never hurt her. What do I have to do for you to believe—” But when I saw the sheer disappointment in his eyes, it overlapped with every moment from the past. I laughed at myself. The words died in my throat. There is no “why.” If you don’t want something anymore, you treat it like trash. The last thread of familial love in my heart snapped. I stared at him blankly. “Your punishment is almost over. Can you promise me one thing? Send flowers to Ms. Clarke for me.” He scoffed, full of contempt. “Once the punishment is over, as long as you don’t team up with her to bully Vanessa, I’ll give you whatever you want.” You won’t have to worry about your precious sister being bullied anymore. And aside from those flowers, I don’t want anything. “You keep your word.” My heart was completely empty. I lowered my head and turned toward the secluded part of the riverbank. Liam watched my retreating figure—walking like a corpse—and his heart gave a sudden, violent lurch. An unprecedented uneasiness welled up. He was about to chase after me when a soft cough from Vanessa pulled him back. He immediately picked her up and rushed her to the hospital. I waited by the river until late at night. When no one was around, I climbed over the railing. Looking at the dark water, I closed my eyes, finally feeling relief… To soothe Vanessa, Liam stayed with her for a full week. Checking his phone, he realized my birthday was approaching. He decided to bring me home and give me all the birthday presents he missed over the last three years. But just as he was about to dial my number, a news alert popped up on his phone. [Breaking: A decomposed female body was recovered from the Linlang River today. Identity confirmed as the former top scholar who vanished three years ago, Riley Hart!]

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“Comp time? We’ll talk about it later.” Director King didn’t even look up as she signed the document and handed it back to me. I stood rooted to the spot. “Why are you still here?” She finally glanced up. “Director King, I’ve applied for comp time 17 times,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “17 times, and not a single one has been approved.” “Young people need to gain more experience,” she smiled dismissively. “Let’s wait until the project goes live.” Wait until the project goes live. She said the exact same thing last year when the previous project launched. I looked down at my phone. The overtime record from last night hadn’t cleared yet. Three years. 3,000 hours. “Fine,” I nodded and turned to leave. At the door, I paused. “Director King, 3,000 hours for zero days off.” I didn’t look back. “I’ll remember this.” 1. Working until 2 AM wasn’t anything new. I stared at the lines of code on my screen, my eyes burning. My desk lamp was the only light left in the office; the city outside was already asleep. Ding. My phone lit up. A Slack message. From Director King: [Update the presentation deck for tomorrow morning. Swap in the latest data.] Sending messages at 2 AM? She was definitely asleep by now. I ignored it and went back to the code. I built this financial settlement system from scratch—frontend, backend, database, all of it. In three years, no one else had touched a single line of code. Not because they didn’t want to learn, but because they couldn’t. The company had fifty-some employees, but the tech department was just me. The rest were operations or sales. This system handled the entire company’s financial flow. One glitch, and everything would grind to a halt. So I couldn’t leave. At least, that’s what they thought. At 3:30 AM, I finally fixed the last bug. Shutdown. Lock up. Head downstairs. The office building was empty, the security guard dozing off at the front desk. Seeing me, he lifted a heavy eyelid. “Late again, Sue?” “Yeah.” “Your company really hustles.” I didn’t reply and pushed through the doors. Hustle? My salary was $3,000 a month, unchanged for three years. 3,000 hours of overtime, zero comp days. Last month, I asked for vacation time, and Director King said, “Project’s too busy, maybe next time.” It was always “next time.” By the time I got home, it was nearly 4 AM. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. A thought suddenly popped into my head: What would happen if I left? No one to maintain the system. Financial data goes haywire. The company stops functioning. Director King would panic. That woman who never gave me the time of day would panic. I rolled over and closed my eyes. Forget it. Sleep first. The next morning at 9 AM, I arrived at the office on time. Or rather, I arrived on time, sleep-deprived. As soon as I sat down, Slack pinged. [@Sue, is the presentation updated?] I opened PowerPoint and swapped the data. Finished in ten minutes, sent. Five minutes later, Director King replied: [This chart isn’t clear enough. Change it.] I remade the chart. Another five minutes: [Too dark. Lighter.] Changed the color. [Font is too small.] Changed the font. [Actually, the first version was better. Change it back.] I took a deep breath. Changed it back. I was used to this. In my three years as a developer, I’ve revised no fewer than 500 presentations. Not because I’m good at PowerPoint, but because the company doesn’t have anyone dedicated to it. Well, they did, but she quit. The last admin girl lasted three months before resigning. Her reason? “Can’t handle the overtime.” Director King ranted in the office for half an hour: “Young people these days just can’t handle hardship.” I listened silently. Can’t handle hardship? She left every day at 6 PM sharp. Never worked overtime. Never replied to messages on weekends because she “needed family time.” And me? Three years without a single full weekend off. “Sue.” My coworker Lee leaned over, whispering. “What?” “Heard bonuses are coming out this month.” “Yeah.” “How much do you think we’ll get?” I shrugged. “No idea.” Lee sighed. “I asked around, seems pretty low. Last time, Old Zhang in sales—top performer—only got $4,000.” $4,000. A year of work, thousands of overtime hours, top performance… for a $4,000 bonus. That was this company. “Tell me,” Lee looked at me, “what are we even doing here?” I didn’t answer. What were we doing here? I wanted to know too. 2 PM, all-hands meeting. The conference room was small, fifty people crammed in, the air stifling. Director King stood at the front, my PowerPoint projected on the screen. “This quarter, our financial settlement system has been stable, boosting efficiency by 30%,” she boasted. “This is the result of our entire team’s hard work.” Entire team. I wrote that system alone. “Especially with this latest upgrade, we’ve solved the data latency issues. Client feedback has been excellent.” I spent two weeks of consecutive overtime on that upgrade. I even wrote the client feedback email. “I led the team on this project,” Director King looked out at the room. “Of course, on the execution side, Sue contributed too.” Contributed too. My fists clenched. After the meeting, Director King walked over and patted my shoulder. “Sue, good work.” “Thanks.” “Keep it up.” She smiled and walked away. Lee sidled up. “Didn’t you build that system by yourself?” “Yeah.” “Then why did King say it was her team…” “She’s the boss,” I cut him off. “It’s normal.” Lee opened his mouth but said nothing. Normal. In this company, everything was normal. No overtime pay? Normal. Comp time denied? Normal. Credit stolen? Normal. Staring at Director King’s back, I remembered last night’s thought. What would happen if I left? Maybe it was time to seriously consider that question. 2. Three days later, a problem cropped up in finance. “Sue, come here for a second.” Zhou, the finance supervisor, stood at my desk, looking grim. “What’s wrong, Zhou?” “The data in the system doesn’t match,” she lowered her voice. “Last month’s accounts receivable is short $24,000.” I frowned. “Short?” “Yes. Come take a look, see if it’s a bug.” I went to the finance office, reviewed the data for twenty minutes, and found the issue wasn’t the system. “Zhou, this isn’t a bug,” I pointed at the screen. “This entry was manually deleted.” “Manually deleted?” Zhou blinked. “By who?” I pulled up the operation logs. The user account was clearly listed. It was Director King’s account. “This…” Zhou glanced at me, speechless. I stayed silent too. Director King using her account to delete a $24,000 receivable entry… we both knew what that implied. “Sue,” Zhou took a deep breath. “Don’t mention this to anyone.” “I know.” “I’ll go talk to King.” She left. I sat in the finance office, staring at the log entry, feelings churning. $24,000. Maybe it was for accounting purposes, maybe something else. None of my business. But I knew one thing: this company’s waters were deeper than I thought. That evening, while working overtime, Lee leaned over again. “Sue, did you hear?” “Hear what?” “Director King is getting promoted to VP.” I stopped typing. “When?” “Just the last couple of days. Rumor has it the boss is very happy with the financial system project.” The financial system I built. The one she took credit for. “Any benefit for us if she gets promoted?” I asked. Lee shook his head. “Don’t know. But…” he lowered his voice, “heard VP starts at $100k a year.” $100k. I made $36,000 a year. She stole my credit and tripled her salary. “Alright, got it,” I turned back to my screen. “Get back to work.” Lee left. I stared at the monitor, mind blank. Three years. I gave the best three years of my youth to this company. Late nights, overtime, solving problem after problem. I thought hard work would pay off. The result? Someone else took the payoff. I opened a job search site and started updating my resume. Three years of dev experience, proficient in Java and Python, independently developed a full financial settlement system. I should be able to find something. I clicked “Submit.” The next morning, as soon as I arrived, HR Linda found me. “Sue, Director King wants to see you.” I nodded and walked into her office. She sat behind her desk, smiling. “Sue, have a seat.” I sat down. “What’s up, Director?” “Nothing major,” she flipped through a file. “Just wanted to check in. How’s work lately? Any difficulties?” I paused. She had never asked how my work was going. “Fine,” I said. “No difficulties.” “Good,” she put down the file and looked at me. “Sue, you’ve been here three years, right?” “Yes.” “Three years, performance has been solid,” she smiled. “The company sees that.” Sees that. I didn’t speak. “I discussed it with the boss,” she continued. “Once this quarter’s rush is over, we’ll bump your salary up a level.” A raise? My heart fluttered slightly. “How much?” “$100.” $100. $100 a month. Three years of overtime, stolen credit, denied time off… for $100 a month? “Well? Happy?” Director King smiled. I took a deep breath, suppressing the anger. “Director, I want to apply for comp time.” Her smile froze. “Comp time?” “Yes. I haven’t taken a day off in three years. I want a few days.” “Well…” she frowned. “We’re busy with the project right now. Not a good time.” “When is the project not busy?” “Give it a few months, wait until this quarter ends.” “You said that last quarter.” Her expression darkened. “Sue, what’s with the attitude?” I stayed silent. “Young people need to learn to endure hardship,” she stood up. “We’ve all been there. Look at everyone else, who’s constantly asking for time off?” Everyone else? Everyone else got overtime pay. Everyone else got comp time approved. Everyone else didn’t work until 2 AM every night. Only me. “Fine,” I stood up. “Understood.” “Don’t be upset,” she switched back to a smile. “Once this is over, I’ll treat you to dinner.” I didn’t respond and walked out. Back at my desk, Lee asked, “How’d it go?” “Raised $100.” “Only $100?” Lee’s eyes widened. “Your system is worth way more than that! Only $100?” “And,” I added, “comp time denied again.” “Denied?” Lee paused. “So what are you going to do?” I looked at the freshly updated resume on my screen and hit refresh. “Find a new company.” 3. Two weeks later, I got my first interview invite. It was an internet company, much larger than my current one. The position was Tech Lead, offering $80k a year. Double my current salary. I called in sick for a day to interview. The interviewer was the Tech Director, around thirty-five, black-framed glasses, seemed easygoing. “Sue, right?” He flipped through my resume. “Independently developed a full financial system in three years?” “Yes.” “Talk me through the architecture.” I explained the frontend, backend, database design, and interface logic. He nodded along. “Impressive,” he looked at me. “Any questions?” “Is there a lot of overtime?” He laughed. “Honestly, yes, when it’s busy. But normally, we leave at 6 PM sharp, weekends off. Overtime is paid, and you get comp time every month.” Comp time every month. Four words that sounded like a foreign language. “As for compensation,” he continued, “we can offer $90k annually, plus 15 days of PTO. How does that sound?” $90k. 15 days PTO. I took a deep breath. “That works.” “Great. HR will process the offer, we’ll be in touch soon.” Interview over, I walked out of the building and stood on the street, dazed. $90k. 2.5 times my current salary. 15 days PTO. More than I’d had in three years combined. So in a normal company, employees leave on time. They take vacations. They work with dignity. I’d spent three years in that place, almost convinced the whole world was like that. Time to go. Back at the office, it was already 4 PM. As soon as I walked in, HR Linda intercepted me. “Sue, Director King wants you.” Again. I walked into her office. King sat there, face stormy. “Sue, where were you today?” “Doctor’s appointment.” “Doctor?” She sneered. “All day?” “Yes.” “Do you think I believe that?” I didn’t answer. She stood up, walking up to me. “Let me tell you, Sue, you better behave. The company needs people right now, if you dare…” “Dare what?” I interrupted. “Dare to quit?” She froze. “Director King,” I looked at her. “I’ve been here three years. Over 3,000 hours of overtime, zero comp days. You took credit for all my work. My reward? A $100 raise.” “You…” “Do you think,” I smiled, “there’s anything I wouldn’t dare to do?” Her face went pale. “Are you threatening me?” “Not a threat,” I turned to leave. “Just stating facts.” “Stop right there!” she yelled. “Sue, if you quit, I’ll make sure you never work in this industry again!” I stopped. “Make sure I never work again?” I turned back, looking at her. “Then I’ll make sure you can’t stay at this company.” The door closed behind me. Back at my desk, Lee stared at me, shocked. “Sue, did you… argue with Director King?” “No,” I said. “Just spoke some truth.” “And she…” “She said she’d blacklist me from the industry.” Lee gasped. “What will you do?” I opened my computer, exported my attendance records, and saved them to a USB drive. “Saving anything useful,” I said. “Might need it later.” Watching me, Lee suddenly said, “Sue, are you leaving?” I didn’t answer. He sighed. “You should have left ages ago. This place is a dead end.” That night at home, I received the offer email. Black and white: $90k salary, start date in one month. I stared at the email, feeling strangely calm. Three years. I was finally leaving that hellhole. But before I left, I had work to do. I opened my laptop and started organizing evidence. Slack clock-in records: 3 years, 1,095 days of overtime. Comp time requests: 17 applications, 0 approvals. Pay stubs: $3,000 a month, never a cent of overtime pay. And the employment contract. I dug out the contract, flipping to the “Working Hours” page. Black and white: Standard working hours, 8 hours a day, 40 hours a week. Not “flexible working hours.” HR lied. I organized all the evidence into an encrypted folder. Might need it later. No. Will need it later. 4. The next day, I went to work as usual. On the surface, nothing changed. I still worked late, still revised endless PowerPoints, still answered 2 AM messages. But my mindset was completely different. Because I knew, in one month, it would all be over. Tuesday afternoon, a newbie arrived. An intern recruited by King, fresh out of college, looking clean-cut and naive. “This is Zhang,” King introduced him. “He’ll be learning from you.” Learning? I glanced at King; her eyes darted away. She wanted Zhang to take over the system. “Sure,” I said. “No problem.” Over the next few days, I “taught” Zhang. Of course, I only taught the basics. Core architecture, critical code, operational logic? Didn’t say a word. Not because I’m petty, but because you can’t learn that in a few days. Three years of accumulation isn’t something an intern can just pick up. Zhang was diligent, taking notes, asking questions. “Sue,” he asked one day, “how long did it take you to build this?” “Three years.” “Three years?” His eyes widened. “Just you?” “Yep.” “Then… if you’re not here, who maintains it?” I smiled. “What do you think?” He paused, silent. A week later, I got the onboarding notification from the new company. Start date: the 15th of next month. Meaning I had to resign by the 15th of this month. Three weeks left. Time to resign. But first, one last confirmation. I found Zhou in finance. “Zhou, quick question.” “What’s up?” “Did I get any overtime pay for the last three years?” Zhou paused, checking her computer. “Your pay stubs… show no overtime pay.” “Why?” “HR said you signed a flexible hours contract.” “I signed a standard hours contract.” Zhou looked at me, silent. “Zhou, I want to check my contract on file.” “Where’s your copy?” “I have it,” I pulled it out of my bag. “But I want to confirm the company’s copy matches mine.” Zhou hesitated, then checked the archives. Both contracts were identical. Standard working hours. “This…” Zhou stared at the contract, face changing. “So HR saying flexible hours…” “Was a lie,” I put away the contract. “The company stole three years of overtime pay from me.” Zhou opened her mouth but said nothing. I stood up. “Thanks, Zhou.” Walking out of finance, I felt calm. Three years, 3,000 hours. By law, the company owed me at least $30,000. Time to settle the bill. That night, King messaged me again. [Revise tomorrow’s meeting PPT again.] I looked at the message and didn’t reply. The old me would have opened the laptop instantly, staying up all night. The new me just wanted to laugh. Three weeks, and I’m gone. Revise it yourself. I turned off my phone and went to sleep. The next day, King exploded in the office. “Sue! Why didn’t you reply last night!” “I was asleep.” “Asleep? Do you know how important today’s meeting is?” “I revised the PPT,” I handed her a USB drive. “Finished it half an hour ago.” She froze, taking the drive. “…Next time, pay attention.” “Okay.” I returned to my desk. Lee whispered, “You’ve got guts lately.” “Really?” I smiled. “Maybe because I’m leaving soon.” “Really leaving?” “Really.” Lee paused. “Actually… I’m looking too.” I patted his shoulder. “Leave early. This place is a dead end.”

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1 On the day of our engagement party, Sebastian shoved me aside. The heirloom ring and the wedding gifts, meant for me, he handed to my father’s illegitimate daughter. My mother’s face went pale. “Sebastian, what is the meaning of this? Do you not even recognize your own fiancée?” But the man who had been tangled in my sheets just last night, my fiancé of six years, now looked at me with an unnerving calm. “I’ve been appointed to a diplomatic post in Paris. A four-year term. Elara… she knows nothing. She’d just be a burden.” “Besides,” he added, “I’ve already put Chloe’s name down as my accompanying partner. Her French is flawless. She can be my assistant.” Ignoring the ballroom full of stunned guests, he took Chloe Blake’s hand and walked away, leaving me to become the laughingstock of Sterling Harbor. Four years later, he returned with a newly pregnant Chloe in tow. But when he saw me sitting beside his mother, his face darkened instantly. “Elara, the Ashworths have done more than enough to support the Blakes these past few years. You’re not my wife, so why are you still clinging to my family like a leech?” “I know I broke my promise back then, but it’s over. Even if you try to suck up to my mother now, I’ll never marry you. Chloe is pregnant!” I froze. So he still didn’t know. In this family, by rank, he now had to call me ‘Aunt’. … “Such disrespect!” Mrs. Ashworth’s smile vanished. She slammed her water glass down on the table with a crack. Her gaze, sharp with disapproval, swept over Chloe. “You come back here without even greeting Elara first, and you bring this… classless woman with you.” “Get her out of my sight. Now!” I lifted my teacup, the rising steam veiling the smile in my eyes. Sebastian’s father had a string of mistresses, which is why his mother despised illegitimate children more than anything. Chloe never stood a chance. Hearing the contempt in Mrs. Ashworth’s voice, Chloe’s face turned ashen. I thought she’d have the sense to retreat. Instead, she placed an ultrasound report on the table and sank to her knees, a picture of fragile vulnerability. “Mrs. Ashworth, I know I’m not worthy of you… but the babies, they’re innocent!” She shot a timid glance my way. “I know my sister was the one engaged to Sebastian, but I’m carrying his children now. The doctor confirmed it… a healthy pair of twins.” “Please, Elara, I’m begging you, have mercy. Give my children a name! I’ll even be your son’s mistress, hidden away from the world!” With that, she covered her face and broke into heart-wrenching sobs, casting a mournful look over her shoulder. Sebastian’s eyes immediately reddened with emotion. He rushed over and pulled Chloe into a fierce embrace. “Don’t say such foolish things. You’re the only woman I love, the one I’m going to marry!” At the mention of twins, Mrs. Ashworth’s eyes lit up. She hesitated, then turned to me for my opinion. “Elara, what do you think?” I took a sip of my tea before answering. “The mother of the Ashworth grandchildren being a mistress… It wouldn’t look right, would it?” My intention was to push them toward marriage. But to Sebastian’s ears, it sounded like I wouldn’t even grant her the position of a mistress. His face contorted with rage. He kicked over a nearby vase, shattering it against the floor, and snarled at me, “Who the hell do you think you are, Elara? This is the Ashworth house. You have no say here!” “It was the same back at the Blake estate! You could never stand Chloe, always giving her hell! Well, she’s my woman now. In my eyes, you’re not worth a single strand of her hair.” My fingers curled into a fist. The day Chloe came to live with us, she stole my father’s affection, moved into my bedroom, and then, claiming a sudden allergy, drowned my dog. When I screamed at her, my father slapped me twice across the face. Between the two of us, who was it that couldn’t stand whom? Snapping back to the present, I looked at the furious man before me and couldn’t help but laugh. “Sebastian, did you leave your brain in Paris along with your diplomatic credentials? When did I ever say I wanted to marry you?” His mother, equally incensed, pointed a trembling finger at him. “Insolent boy! Is that any way to speak to your elders?” 2 “My elders? Mom, I wasn’t talking to you, I was talking to Elara!” Before his mother could retort, a nanny’s frantic voice cut through the tension. “Mrs. Ashworth, it’s terrible! The young master… I don’t know what happened, he suddenly can’t breathe!” The anger on Mrs. Ashworth’s face was instantly replaced by sheer panic. If something happened to her brother-in-law’s son in her house, that man would tear their whole world down… “How could you be so careless? Call the family doctor, quickly!” The baby’s face was a horrifying shade of purple, his only sounds strangled whimpers from deep in his throat. “Leo!” My voice cracked with terror as I lunged forward to take him. But before I could reach him, Sebastian had swept the baby into his arms. He chuckled, playfully poking the child’s cheek. “Whose little tyke is this? Cute little thing.” My eyes burned with desperate tears, my voice a raw scream. “Sebastian! Give me back my son!” Mrs. Ashworth shot to her feet, her voice a thunderous command. “You reckless boy, stop it! If anything happens to that child, none of us will be safe!” “Relax, Mom.” Sebastian just smiled, nonchalantly passing the baby to Chloe. “Chloe’s been studying child care for two years in preparation for our baby. She’ll know what’s wrong in a second.” And just as he said, after a single glance, Chloe let out a smug laugh. “Oh, it’s probably just a blocked bladder.” With that, she delivered a hard, forceful slap to the baby’s back. The sickening thud made my heart stop. My legs gave out and I crumpled to the floor. “Leo!” Mrs. Ashworth was trembling, her face drained of all color. Then, the nanny cried out in relief. “He wet himself! The young master really did it!” She quickly took the baby and brought him over for us to see. “Look, his color is returning to normal.” Seeing the purple tinge fade from my son’s face, I finally let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Tears I hadn’t realized I was holding back finally streamed down my face. “Thank God…” “See, Mom? I told you she’d be a wonderful mother!” Sebastian said, lovingly tapping Chloe’s nose. She tilted her chin up, beaming with pride. “But Elara,” she started, her eyes darting around before she feigned a sudden realization, covering her mouth with her hand. “Sebastian, now that I look closer… doesn’t the baby look a little like my sister?” “Could this be her child? But we never heard anything about her getting married…” Sebastian’s pupils contracted. He snatched the baby back, his gaze flickering between the child’s face and mine. His eyes blazed with fury. “Elara, you dare cheat on me?!” Understanding dawned on his face. “No wonder you never contacted me all these years. You were hiding away, having someone else’s child!” “Whose bastard is this? Which animal did you have this mutt with, and how dare you bring him into our home to disgust me!” At his words, every servant in the room went pale, lowering their heads in silence. I rose to my feet, my voice trembling with rage as I held up my left hand, displaying the massive wedding band on my ring finger. “He is my child, you’re right about that. But I’m already married.” “And you know my husband. His name is Julian Ashworth!” 3 “Julian? You mean my uncle? The one who’s practically allergic to women?” Sebastian muttered to himself, then snapped his head up, his eyes locking on mine. A scornful laugh escaped his lips. “Everyone in Sterling Harbor knows my uncle can’t stand women. Forget women, even a female cat can’t get near him!” “Someone once tried to drug him and send a girl to his bed. The next day, their entire family vanished from the city.” “Elara, if you’re going to lie, at least make it believable.” Allergic to women? I resisted the urge to rub my temples. I almost wished it were true. It would save my body from being wrecked every night. My silence was taken as an admission of guilt. Chloe shot me a triumphant look and cooed, “Sebastian, don’t you remember? My sister declared to all of Sterling Harbor that she’d marry no one but you. When you were kidnapped by your rivals, she cried and screamed that she wanted to die with you. How could she possibly marry someone else?” “She probably got lonely these past few years and had an… accident.” “But a child of unknown origin like this… it’s not appropriate for him to stay in the Ashworth home, is it?” The memory hit me as suddenly as the gunshot had that night. Sebastian had nearly died during that kidnapping. The kidnappers demanded his father sign over the Mariner’s Point development, but they didn’t know his father had several other sons. Sebastian’s life was nothing compared to that massive profit. It was me who stole the project contracts from my family’s safe. I went to the kidnappers alone and traded them for Sebastian’s freedom. That night, my father beat me with a cane, ninety-nine lashes. My mouth was filled with blood, but I never made a sound. Only when he asked if I knew my mistake did I answer with unwavering resolve. “If Sebastian dies, I won’t live without him.” They threw me out of the house, bleeding and broken. Sebastian held me, his body wracked with sobs. Without hesitation, he took the cane and gave himself ninety-nine lashes, marking his own body with the same scars as mine. Looking at my swollen eyes, he made a promise. “Elara, you’re the love of my life. These scars are the proof of our love. As soon as I prove myself to my father, I will make you my wife!” I waited and waited. I waited until Sebastian became a diplomat, until he dealt with all the other illegitimate sons in the Ashworth family. But in the end, I never got to see him come for me. It seemed Sebastian remembered, too. His expression softened, but the disgust in his eyes when he looked at my son remained. “Elara, because you saved my life once, I’ll let you stay with the Ashworths.” “Sebastian!” Chloe cried out, her eyes filling with hurt. He immediately pulled her into his arms, comforting her. “Don’t cry, Chloe. I only meant she can stay as a nanny, to take care of you and our babies.” “After all, she’s the woman the Ashworths publicly rejected. No one in Sterling Harbor would dare marry her now. You have a generous heart, my love. Think of it as giving her a place to eat.” Chloe’s tears vanished, replaced by a triumphant smile. “What about the child, Sebastian?” Looking at the baby in his arms, who bore a slight resemblance to me, Sebastian sighed. His warning gaze fell on me. “I abandoned you at our engagement party, and now you’ve cheated on me. Let’s call it even.” “I’m allowing you to stay, but this bastard child has to go. I won’t have him under my roof. From now on, your job is to take care of Chloe and her babies. And don’t you dare try to seduce me again.” 4 I had reached my limit and was about to unleash a torrent of curses. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw my son’s face turning purple again! “Leo!” I whirled around, glaring at the nanny. “What on earth did you feed him?” The nanny’s eyes darted nervously. “Nothing… nothing special. Just some milk.” “Just milk? Then why is his face turning that color?” His symptoms… he had to be choking on something. I grabbed the nanny’s arm, but Chloe stepped in front of me. “Have you no manners, sister? This is an Ashworth family nanny. You’re in no position to yell at her!” “Besides, he’s just some bastard child you had with a stranger. Is he really worth all this drama?” I ignored Chloe’s taunts and rushed forward, snatching my son into my arms. Seeing the deep purple hue on his face and the faintness of his breathing, a wave of unbearable pain washed over me. Tears streamed down my cheeks. “Get a doctor! Now!” Footsteps sounded behind me, but Sebastian blocked the way. “Nobody move!” “Elara, do you think this is a public market? You can’t just order my family’s staff around!” I shot him a look of pure hatred. “Sebastian, if anything happens to my son today, I swear I will make you pay!” “What?” His eyes reddened, filled with disbelief. “Elara, you’d talk to me like that? For a bastard you had with some other man?” I ignored his wounded expression, collapsing as I held my son, my tears a wild flood. “Leo… my Leo…” I dug my nails into my palms, my mind racing for a solution. I remembered reading about the Heimlich maneuver online and immediately tried to position my son to perform it. But in the next second, my arms were empty. Sebastian had taken him. Seeing the raw grief on my face, he trembled with rage. “Elara, he’s just a fatherless mutt! Why do you care so much?” “Unless… his father is that old flame of yours!” he roared, a look of sudden, ugly realization on his face. “So that’s it. No wonder you didn’t say a word when I left with Chloe from the engagement party. I thought you had finally grown up, but you had already found my replacement behind my back. You disgust me, Elara!” Hearing this, Chloe gasped dramatically. “Sister, I can’t believe you’re that kind of woman! If father finds out, he’ll throw you out of the family for good!” My son’s chest had almost stopped moving. Forgetting everything else, I dropped to my knees before Sebastian, my voice shattering as I begged, “Sebastian, please, I’m begging you, give me back my son.” “Just give him back to me, and I’ll forget any of this ever happened!” He had never seen me so utterly broken, and all for a child whose father was a mystery. Sebastian stumbled back a step, then his voice rose to a fever pitch. “That’s enough, Elara! I know this is all just a pathetic act to get my mother’s sympathy so you can marry me.” “Fine! I’ll marry you. Are you happy now?” “Sebastian!” Chloe cried out, swaying on her feet as tears streamed down her face. He immediately turned to wipe them away, his voice softening. “It’s just an empty title for her.” “You’ll be the one walking down the aisle with me, the one on the marriage license. My heart, my body… everything is yours.” Chloe’s tears stopped, and she gave me a magnanimous look. “Well, if you put it that way, I suppose I won’t fight my sister for it.” When Sebastian looked back at me, I was already lunging for my son. He lifted the baby high above his head. “First, you tell me who the father is. Then you can have him back.” A wave of terror washed over me, and I screamed, my voice raw and trembling, “Sebastian, put my son down!” Even his mother shot to her feet, her usually composed face slick with sweat and fear. “You crazy boy! Put that child down right now, or I swear I’ll have your father break your legs!” Sebastian just laughed. “Don’t worry, Mom. The Blakes have no real power. They won’t acknowledge a bastard child. And even if something happened, Uncle Julian would clean it up for us.” “Today, even if I dash this baby’s brains out right here, the Blakes won’t dare to say a word!” As if to prove his point, he raised his hand higher. His grip slipped. The baby fell. “NO!” I shrieked, my voice tearing from my throat. I tried to scramble forward to catch him, but Chloe stuck out her foot, tripping me. As my son plunged towards the hard floor, I squeezed my eyes shut in utter despair. But in the next second, a pair of strong hands snatched him from the air. Then, a resounding crack echoed through the room as Sebastian’s father slapped him across the face. “You worthless fool! How dare you touch your uncle’s son!”

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The System threw me into a romance novel to save the “devoted second male lead.” But I’m not a savior. I’m a high-maintenance diva with the temperament of a rabid chihuahua. I have zero patience for his tragic backstory. He was hopelessly in love with the heroine, unrequited, and decided to end it all. While he was upstairs preparing a lethal cocktail of sleeping pills, I was downstairs interviewing housekeepers. “Hey! Are any of you virgins? If you’re not a virgin, don’t even think about serving me! Filthy!” Upstairs, the Second Lead heard me and spat out his poison. My identity in this world is a student he sponsors. He’s notoriously upright and feels responsible for my moral upbringing. He hesitated, put down the pills, ran downstairs, and tried to lecture me gently: “Nina, ‘virgin’ isn’t a word we should use like that. It objectifies people. Let’s not say it again, okay?” I slapped him across the face, impatient. “Shut up. Also, who gave you permission to breathe? Don’t you know I hate the sound of breathing?” The Devoted Second Lead was stunned. After a long pause, he spoke, his eyes full of guilt: “Nina, you’re only eighteen. It’s my fault you turned out like this. I was so drowning in my own heartbreak that I neglected you. From today on, I will educate you properly.” What was he rambling about? But the floating text—the “Bullet Screen” comments from viewers in the real world—went wild: 【99 previous transmigrators failed to stop him from committing suicide, but Nina did it with one sentence! What a tactic! Top-tier succubus… no, top-tier brat!】 【Nina is too powerful! Sob, my handsome, rich, gentle Second Lead finally isn’t dying!】 Chapter 1 I sized up the 24-year-old man in front of me. This was the book’s tragic Second Lead, Julian Vance. Planning to kill himself over love? What a loser. Before the comments could finish celebrating, his phone rang. It was the heroine, Bella. Julian scrambled to answer, terrified to make her wait even a second. “Bella? Are you okay? Is something wrong? You haven’t called in so long.” Bella was a girl Julian had sponsored, helping her leave her rural hometown to attend college in New York. She refused to live in the dorms because they were “too small to study in,” so she asked to live in Julian’s downtown penthouse. Julian agreed. Over four years, Julian fell in love with her. But she fell for the poor scholarship student, the Male Lead, Noah. Julian was heartbroken but didn’t dare disturb her happiness. He wrote a will leaving his billion-dollar fortune to Bella and prepared to off himself. Until I interrupted. On the phone, Bella’s voice was crisp and furious: “Julian! Did you get Noah fired from the coffee shop?!” Julian looked panicked. “Bella, I didn’t! I never touched him. I swear…” She cut him off. “I don’t believe you! Just because you’re rich and powerful doesn’t mean you can bully people! I love him, Julian! I love him so much! And I don’t love you! If you hurt him, I’ll die!” In an instant, Julian’s face went pale, like the life had been sucked out of him. He replied robotically: “Okay. I understand. I…” She hung up before he could finish. I crossed my arms and watched him. He stared blankly at his phone, the screen illuminating his handsome, scholarly face. He wore gray loungewear, buttoned to the top. Even in despair, he looked pristine, his broad shoulders slumping in defeat. He let out a bitter laugh. “Four years… and she still doesn’t know what kind of person I am? Heh. Why would I bully a student working at a coffee shop…” I grabbed his face, squeezing his cheeks. “Stop being sad for a second. I have a question. Are you a virgin?” He blinked, stunned, and nodded dumbly. I stood up. “Good. Now, drive me to get my nails done. I only allow virgins to be my chauffeur.” A flash of shock crossed his face. He frowned, looking at me with gentle concern. “Nina, you’re eighteen. You’re so young. Why do you talk like that? It’s not appropriate. I know I just met you today, but…” I checked my watch and cut him off. “Hurry up! The salon closes soon!” Julian’s phone buzzed. A message popped up. [Bella (Loves cheese, hates water, remind her to hydrate): JULIAN! It’s your fault I’m upset! I drank too much. I feel sick. I can’t tell Noah. Come pick me up.] [Bella: Angry Cat Sticker] But Julian didn’t even look at his phone. His entire focus was on me. He looked at me with infinite patience, gentle but firm. “Nina, let’s correct this habit together, okay? If you can go a month without saying ‘virgin,’ I’ll give you a surprise gift.” Tsk. Why was he talking to me like a toddler? And who wants him as a big brother? But… his penthouse looked expensive. His “surprise gift” would probably be expensive too. Maybe something shiny with a designer logo. Damn it. I kinda wanted it. I huffed. “Fine. But you still have to drive me.” He smiled, his eyes crinkling. “Good girl. Thank you for listening. Let’s go get your nails done.” The comments scrolled by fast: 【She made the Second Lead ignore the Heroine’s text! Nina is a god!】 【Why does he give off such ‘Male Mom’ energy? I love a rich, gentle Male Mom with big pecs.】 【He’s distracted now, but he’ll probably try to kill himself again later… especially with Bella provoking him.】 【Go Nina! There’s a ten million dollar prize for saving him!】 Chapter 2 I didn’t want to “go Nina.” My personality is terrible. I have zero patience for “saving” men. Sure, time in the real world stops while I’m here, so I’m not losing anything. But getting transmigrated without consent annoyed me. It was all Julian’s fault for wanting to die! Thinking about it made me mad. I reached up and strangled Julian with both hands. Surprise flashed in his eyes. He was putting on his coat to drive me. He stopped, looking down at me. “Nina, what’s wrong?” I squeezed harder. “Tsk. Why is your neck so hard? I can’t even choke you properly. Are you sick?” I demanded unreasonably. “Didn’t you go to Harvard? Did they not teach you how to make your neck softer?!” The comments rolled: 【Holy crap, Nina is a demon child.】 【She makes zero sense! But she’s so beautiful… oh no, my brain is fighting itself.】 【Nina: Beauty 100, Morality 0.】 Julian bent down to make it easier for me to strangle him. From this angle, I could see his collarbones and a hint of muscle. He looked genuinely worried. “Nina, Harvard doesn’t teach neck-softening. You’re a freshman this year… why don’t you know what college teaches? Are you skipping classes? Why? Is someone bullying you at school?” His phone rang. Bella’s name flashed. He didn’t even look. He hung up and squatted down to look me in the eye. “Nina, are you being bullied? Can you tell me?” ? How dare he misunderstand me? I got even angrier. When I get angry, I cry. So I started sobbing while slapping him. “Of course not! Idiot! Shut up! Now!” Chapter 3 Seeing my tears, he froze. Then, with perfect manners, he looked away to protect my dignity. He handed me a tissue. His fingers were long, pale, and elegant like jade. “Wipe your face. It is a bit hot in here. Bullying trauma is heavy. If you don’t want to talk about it now, we can talk later.” Weird. Why was he looking at me with pity? Why was he feeling bad for me? Chapter 4 My identity here was a poor student sponsored by Julian. He seemed convinced I was being bullied, so he insisted I stay at his house to “talk.” The next morning, I was sleeping soundly when banging on the door woke me up. I opened it. It was Bella. She was thin and frail, wearing an oversized men’s white shirt. The comments said it belonged to Noah. I glared at her. “What?” She narrowed her pretty eyes, scanning me, then scoffed. “Aren’t you the charity case from the sticks? Why are you living in Julian’s house?” I crossed my arms. “None of your business.” She laughed coldly, shouldering past me into my room, acting like she owned the place. “Drop the act, sweetie. I know your type. I used to be a ‘green tea’ girl too. I’m going to see Julian now, and when I do, I’ll make sure you’re kicked out.” She stared me down, smiling. “After all, Julian does whatever I say.” I walked over and slapped her. “I’m going back to sleep. I don’t want to hear dogs barking. Get out.” Her face went blank. Then she screeched, losing all her cool composure. “You hillbilly! You dare hit me?” The butler rushed in, blocking her path to me. His voice was cold. “Miss Bella, you were once a ‘charity case from the sticks’ too. Have you forgotten?” Her face turned green at the mention of her past. “You!” The butler continued icily: “Miss Bella, our Young Master was suicidal because of you. Thanks to Miss Nina, he found a reason to live. Miss Nina is our VIP. As for you… I’m being polite by not throwing you out myself. You should leave.” Bella looked embarrassed. Then, she seemed to remember something. Her arrogance returned. “You’re just a servant. What right do you have to kick me out? Julian loves me the most. He wants to see me.” She pushed past the butler and ran into the hall, shouting up at Julian’s room: “Julian! It’s Bella! I have something important to tell you!” She turned back to smirk at us, posing like a winner. Sure enough, from upstairs, Julian’s excited voice rang out: “So that’s how it works! Adolescents need positive reinforcement!” Bella froze. She frowned. “What? Julian, it’s me!” Julian didn’t even open the door. He shouted through the wood: “Sorry, Bella! Can it wait? I have three more parenting books to finish!” The smug look froze on Bella’s face. It was hilarious. She repeated dumbly: “Parenting books?” The butler smiled, smoothing my bedsheets. “Ah, yes. Young Master stayed up all night reading about raising teenagers. He wants to take better care of Miss Nina. It’s wonderful to see him so passionate about life again.” Bella’s eyes widened in disbelief. She grabbed the butler’s collar, shrieking: “Why?! She’s eighteen! Why is he reading parenting books for her? She doesn’t deserve it!” The butler shrugged, his expression frosty. “Teenagers are still children. And if the Young Master enjoys it, who are we to stop him?” The butler signaled the door. Security guards in black suits immediately stepped forward and “escorted” Bella out. Her face was gray. She looked at me with pure venom. But under the guards’ watch, she had no choice but to leave.

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One hour before my abortion appointment, I was doom-scrolling when I hit a thread on a popular forum. [What does a “Main Character” life actually look like?] The top comment had thousands of upvotes. Anonymous User: Oh, I win this one. I’m the “fake heiress” everyone loves. Not only did I enjoy eighteen years of luxury meant for that idiot “real daughter,” but I also took her husband. He was practically begging for me, even though she picked up my leftovers. When she finally came back to the family, I faked a depression spiral. My parents didn’t want to “trigger” me, so she’s not even in the family trust. To the public, she’s just a goddaughter. She worked her ass off to become VP, but I just whined “I want that,” and her husband—who was the biggest client—made her life hell until she quit. Mom and Dad handed the job to me the next day. The best part? The night before their wedding, I texted him saying I was “lonely.” We christened her new marital bed before she ever did. Every word dripped with arrogance. The comments were tearing her apart, but she just doubled down, posting a photo of plane tickets with the names blurred out. Anonymous User: Just because I said I didn’t want her ruining her body with a kid, her husband forced her to get an abortion. The funniest part? She’s sitting outside the OR all alone right now. Her parents and her husband are on a flight to Miami with me to help me “decompress.” I was born lucky. She can’t compete. I stared at the photo on my screen. It was identical to the one Bella Sterling had just posted on her Instagram story. I looked around the empty hospital corridor. Just me. Turns out, the idiot in the story is me. Chapter 1 Facing the internet’s rage, Bella didn’t feel shame. She felt empowered. Anonymous User: Hate all you want. The madder you get, the more it proves how much they love me. I’m Daddy’s little girl, and I’m her husband’s soulmate. She attached another photo. A slender hand, the ring finger adorned with a diamond ring. I knew that design. It was the exact match to the one my husband, Gavin, used to wear every day. Her reply popped up, soaking in the attention: Anonymous User: See this? I told him, “Touching me while wearing another woman’s ring is gross.” He threw their cheap wedding bands in the trash. This one? We picked it out together. Custom engraved. In this world, the one who isn’t loved is the mistress. I’m the real wife. A chill spread from my chest to my fingertips as I stared at that ring. A memory from three years ago stabbed me. I had noticed Gavin’s wedding band was missing. He frantically turned his pockets inside out, looking devastated. He hugged me, burying his face in my neck. “Elara, I think I lost it on the business trip. I’m such an idiot. Punish me, seriously. I deserve it.” I trusted him. God, I trusted him so much. A week later, he was wearing a new, unfamiliar ring. “Where did that come from?” I had asked. He looked at me with puppy-dog eyes. “I tried on a sample at the office and it got stuck. If you hate it, honey, I’ll chop my finger off to remove it. Okay?” My heart softened. “Don’t say that… keep it. It actually looks good on you.” It wasn’t a sample. It was their “couple’s ring.” My discarded wedding band, and the unformed life in my womb, were just speed bumps on their road to “true love.” The comment section was on fire. User123: Someone find the real sister! Run, girl, run! PizzaRat: This is vile. Sending hugs to the real daughter, wherever she is. Tears slid down my face as I signed the consent forms. Gavin didn’t deserve a child with me. Walking out of the operating room, the hollow ache in my body was so heavy I had to lean against the wall to walk. My phone buzzed. It was Gavin. “Babe, did you do it?” “We only need Leo. Having another one would just make him jealous. You have to do this for our son.” Chapter 2 “Babe? Can you hear me?” Gavin’s voice came through the receiver, hushed and urgent. “I can hear you,” I whispered. A sharp cramp twisted in my lower abdomen. I bent over, pressing my arm against my stomach. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the shredding of my heart. “So… is it done?” he asked, the urgency naked in his voice. I bit my lip to stop a sob, tasting iron. “It’s done.” I heard his sigh of relief loud and clear. He even let out a small chuckle. “Good girl,” he said, his voice dropping back into that practiced, coaxing tone he used to manipulate me. “When I get back from the trip, I’ll bring you a present.” I forced a silent, mocking smile. Misinterpreting my silence as anger over him missing the appointment, he rushed on. “Aww, babe, you worked so hard. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Massage, dinner, whatever you want.” His patience lasted less than two seconds. “Look, I gotta hop into a meeting. You’re the best. Bye.” Click. After that call, Gavin vanished. For three whole days, radio silence. In the past, I would have made excuses for him. He’s so busy. He’s building our future. I would have sent text messages reminding him to eat, playing the role of the devoted wife. Now, it felt like a joke. He wasn’t busy. He had just successfully disposed of a “problem” and was busy celebrating with the love of his life. Three days later, I was in the living room helping our son, Leo, build a Lego castle. Gavin breezed through the door, dragging a suitcase. He hugged Leo, handing him a limited-edition set the kid had been begging for. “Leo, buddy, go play in your room. Daddy needs to talk to Mommy.” He turned to me, his eyes dark with implied intimacy. Normally, that look would make my heart flutter. Now, I just wanted to vomit. Gavin wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, nuzzling my neck. “Babe, still mad? I know I’m a jerk. I wasn’t there when you needed me. I promise, never again.” I pulled away, turning to face him. “Gavin, count how many times you’ve promised that this month.” His smile faltered. “The 8th. Our anniversary. You said we’d do dinner. One phone call and you vanished for two days.” “Last week. I was sick. You said you’d drive me to urgent care. You dumped me on the curb halfway there.” “And now the abortion…” Listing them out, I realized how pathetic his lies were. He wasn’t a good liar; I had just been blind. A flash of annoyance crossed his face, quickly replaced by a helpless grin. “Babe, don’t keep score. I’m working for this family.” He pulled a velvet box from his pocket. “Look. An apology gift. Let me put it on you…” I sidestepped him. His hand froze in mid-air. “I just had surgery,” I said coldly. “I need to rest. Sleep in the guest room.” I walked upstairs, leaving him standing there, stunned. In the bedroom, my phone buzzed. A notification from the forum. Bella had posted a new photo. When I saw what it was, rage made my hands shake so hard I nearly dropped the phone. Chapter 3 The update was a picture of a dog. A Golden Retriever wearing a diamond necklace. Below it was Bella’s caption: Anonymous User: The idiot is throwing a tantrum. Ugh. I generously gave my dog, Buster’s, old collar to her husband to use as a peace offering. I wonder if she cried tears of joy when she got her ‘gift’? I stared at the screen. The necklace around the dog’s neck was identical to the one Gavin had just tried to put on me. Eight years of marriage. In his eyes, I was worth less than her dog. The crushing disappointment gave way to a cold, clarifying anger. I closed my eyes, inhaled deeply, and let the ice settle in my veins. The door creaked open. “Babe, come on, don’t be like that. I really know I messed up.” Gavin walked in, grinning like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He held out a pink index card. “Look! A ‘Get Out of Jail Free’ card. Good for one forgiveness. Please?” I took the card. The edges were yellowed. The date written on it was from ten years ago. We didn’t even know each other ten years ago. The little heart drawn at the bottom had Bella’s signature swirl. The last ember of love in my chest turned to ash. “Get out,” I said, my voice raspy. “I don’t want to see you.” He frowned, his patience snapping. “Elara, enough is enough. You keep dragging this out, it’s going to get annoying.” He slammed the door and left. I held the card between my fingers. It was cold. My phone rang. It was my mother. “Elara! Grow up,” she snapped the moment I picked up. “Gavin marrying you was already a charity case. Why are you acting out? He works so hard, can’t you be considerate for once?” “Mom,” I interrupted, my voice flat. “I had an abortion.” Silence on the other end. Then, a sigh. “It’s not the end of the world. Gavin is doing what’s best for Leo.” “I called you ten times,” I said. “Gavin was on a ‘business trip.’ What about you? What were you doing that was so important?” I didn’t wait for an answer. I hung up. Texts from mutual friends started flooding in. “Couples fight, it’s normal.” “Gavin loves you so much.” “Look at his Facebook, he’s so sweet.” I opened Gavin’s Facebook. Status update, ten minutes ago: Gavin: Kicked out of the bedroom by the wifey. Guess the gift is keeping me company tonight. Attached was a photo of the necklace. Comments were praising him as a “Wife Guy.” He replied to one: Gavin: Anything for her. Tomorrow is the auction. I’m going to bid on that vintage sapphire choker she wants. Maybe that will get me back in the master bedroom… Lies. I hate sapphires. Bella is the one obsessed with vintage jewelry. I took a screenshot of his post. Then I took a screenshot of the dog collar post. I stitched them together side-by-side. Bella’s thread updated again: Anonymous User: The idiot seems actually mad this time. Whatever. I told Mom to organize a family dinner to put her in her place. She’s forgetting who the favorite is. Someone commented: If you hate her so much and your family is rich, why not just kick her out? Bella replied instantly: Anonymous User: Oh, she’ll get kicked out eventually. But not yet. She’s still useful. I haven’t even used my trump card. Thinking about the look on her face when she finds out the truth… god, it makes me shiver with excitement. “Trump card”? I stared at those words. A strange, intuitive dread crawled up my spine. My phone buzzed again. A text from Mom. Family dinner tonight. Be there. I stared at the screen. “Okay.” I was actually very interested in knowing what Bella’s “trump card” was. Chapter 4 I picked up Leo from school and drove straight to the Sterling Estate. Pulling into the driveway, I saw a small figure huddled on the front steps. It was Bella’s son, Caleb. He was wearing clothes that were too small and washed out. He was just sitting there, staring at the gravel. Based on the timeline… But Bella was clearly unfit to be a mother. Whatever beef I had with her, the kid was innocent. I walked over, holding Leo’s hand. “Why aren’t you inside, Caleb? It’s cold. Auntie brought some cookies, do you want one?” Caleb looked up. His eyes, shaped exactly like Gavin’s, were full of a sadness no seven-year-old should have. He whispered, “Mom said I can’t go in… She’ll be mad.” I offered him a cookie. Just as he reached for it, Bella burst out the front door and slapped his hand. The cookie crumbled into the dirt. “Did I say you could eat? You begging little rat! Do you need another timeout?” Her voice was a shrill weapon. Caleb flinched, curling into a ball like he expected a blow. “Mommy, I’m scared…” Leo grabbed my leg. Bella’s face flipped instantly. She beamed, crouching down to hug Leo. “Oh, Leo, sweetie! Auntie isn’t yelling at you. Auntie bought you the new PS5 game! Come on, let’s go play.” She scooped Leo up and marched inside, shooting me a smug, victorious look over her shoulder. A thought flashed through my brain. A suspicion. Before I could grasp it, Gavin’s voice boomed behind me. “Babe! I knew you’d come.” He sounded cheerful, completely ignoring the tension. He walked up, holding a velvet box. “Look. The sapphire choker. I won the bid! Do you love it?” I looked at him dead in the eyes. “No. I’ve never liked sapphires.” I ignored his shock and gently took Caleb’s freezing hand. “Come inside with Auntie.” Inside the living room, Bella called out to Gavin. “Gavin! Come help! Leo is too strong for me!” She was hiding behind Gavin, giggling, while Leo chased them with a foam dart gun. Gavin was laughing, protecting her, his expensive shirt getting wrinkled. They looked like a perfect, happy family. I sat on the sofa, watching Caleb. He was picking at his cuticles, stealing glances at the happy trio with eyes full of hunger and envy. The suspicion that had flashed earlier returned, this time as a screaming siren in my head. Panic seized my chest for a second. I pulled out my phone and switched to the burner account I had created. I opened a DM with Bella’s anonymous account. Burner: Hey girl. Saw your post. We are living the same life. But I was smarter than you. I switched the babies at birth. Burner: Let her be the “real heiress.” Who cares? In the end, the inheritance, the husband… it all goes to my biological son, who she’s raising. Burner: Just a tip: You gotta give the husband some sugar occasionally. My “simp” was getting restless. Also… make sure the kid knows who his real mom is. Send. Across the room, Bella’s phone lit up on the coffee table. She glanced at it. Her smug smile faltered, then her lips pressed into a thin white line. A moment later, my burner account got a reply. I read it, and my vision went black for a second. The rage was almost blinding.

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